


Unrequited Belonging

by Overthinkerwrites



Series: The Crow's Murder [2]
Category: Tales of Berseria, Tales of Series
Genre: Backstory, Character Study, F/F, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Multi, Polyamorous Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-01
Updated: 2017-06-16
Packaged: 2018-11-07 14:45:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 14
Words: 29,587
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11061183
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Overthinkerwrites/pseuds/Overthinkerwrites
Summary: Magilou Mayven's experiences has painted her as emotionally withdrawn and uncaring. If only that were so.





	1. Chapter 1

Magilou Mayvin is painfully aware of the transience of homes and the facsimiles thereof. 

It started when her parents expressed concern about her ‘oddities’. 

She was only eight years old. And with a different name. 

She had always been the ‘odd’ one of the small village they lived in. When the other children played games with sticks, she sat alone, reading books from the town herbalist. Normally, that would not have bothered her parents had she not been hanging upside down from the roof. Sometimes, she would hang herself by her feet from a nearby tree to read. Always upside down. 

Anything she could get her hands on; cook books, herbalist journals, travel guides, joke comics, and more. Nothing too esoteric, nothing too mundane, she read everything. Twice. 

When her natural talent for magic began to emerge, however, that was when her parents had enough. 

She tried to make her artes helpful to give her parents nothing to worry about. Yet, they would never appreciate the fires she summoned in the hearth, the waters she summoned for the field her father worked in, or the wind to help dry her parents’ laundry. 

It was when she insisted that there were people walking around the village in strange clothes her parents had started calling her such lovely names children should always be called; ‘devil spawn’, ‘cursed child’, and ‘fallen’. It always helped a child’s self-esteem. 

She was not sure what to think when she realized that she had been sold to a troupe of performers, who insisted that they take her because of her gifts to see things that were not there. 

Looking back on it, Magilou would only wonder just how much the troupe paid her parents… if they were paid anything at all. 

Naturally, children abducted by a traveling circus were slave labor first and foremost. They don’t work, they don’t eat. Simple as that. Naturally, she and other children did not like this arrangement. However, given that the circus master would easily, and eagerly in some cases, beat them if they did not comply, they did not have much choice. All of them did not have homes to return to, after all. 

Magilou included. 

Her talents had kept her safe for the next few years, given that she quickly became a main attraction for her prognostication and elemental artes. She was even able to increase her ability and skill in the artes when she had spare time and wasn’t starving. 

It was also she had met Bienfu after an especially lonely night. The little malak was the first real friend she had. He told her about his kind and her ability to see him easily. It opened up many more avenues of possibility and a partnership. It also kept the circus master happy from all the money she was bringing in. 

Slowly, but surely, things were getting better. 

However, five and a half years after being abandoned by her parents, the circus had run afoul of the Abbey. 

Magilou and the other children suspected that the people from the Abbey wanted more money and their owner was not willing to pay it. Henceforth the raid and subsequent capture of all of them by the infamous Inquisitors.

Naturally, blame had been shifted onto her because of her artes. While the rest of the children were guided into homes with families that would hypothetically love them, Magilou was singled out for her heretical use of magics and would be sentenced to death along with the other leaders of the circus. 

However, one accident and many fatalities later, Magilou found herself alone in the wreckage of the convoy meant to take them to Titania. 

She crawled out from the wreckage as the rain fell and whirled around when she felt herself being watched. 

The old man in the silly hat and the strange glass on his eye stroked his beard. 

“Well done, child. I had kept my presence unnoticeable with artes that hid both my sound and my appearance. Yet, you still were able to discern my presence. A remarkable feat for one so young.”

She tilted her head in confusion. He smiled in response. “You have a gift, child. Ever considered cultivating it for a greater purpose?”

She narrowed her eyes at him. 

“Yes, it is understandable to be suspicious in times such as these. However, I grant you this offer so you may sate your curiosity for any subject,” his grin grew wry, “even magic.”

Her eyes widened at the prospect. She could be a great sorceress! Even a witch!

“Do we have a deal?” he asked with both his hands behind his back. 

“Yes!” she answered excitedly. 

He nodded once. “Excellent. What’s your name, child?”

Her smile faltered a bit. The last time someone called her by her real name was when she still had parents. The circus master just called the children whatever name he felt like, and in her case, it was Stick. 

She answered sadly. “Magnolia. Who are you?”

He stroked his beard again as he mulled over her name. “I am Melchior Mayven. A humble magician seeking an apprentice. And as my apprentice, you shall be given a name befitting your new station.”

She wasn’t sure why, but leaning her new name, Magillanica Lou Mayvin, gave her a new sense of pride. Like she had a family again. A home.


	2. Chapter 2

“Here, child,” Melchior began, “we shall test to see if my lessons concerning the manipulation of the elemental artes have taken root.”

“Oh, no worries, Master Melchior,” an older Magillanica answered with a flourish of her much longer hair, “my skills have grown considerably. I am more than capable of-” she was interrupted when a sphere made of fire flew directly at her face and the instant it made contact, she exploded into fireworks and confetti. 

Melchior blinked, curious why that happened before he was blasted off his feet by a guest of wind to the side.

A boisterous laugh brought his attention to the laughing, and real, Magillanica with her head tipped backward.

“Behold! My power, my prestige, and my… my, umm,” she tried to find the words, which proved to be her undoing. With a snap of his fingers, Magillanica was launched into the air from a pillar of earth directly beneath her feet, and into the neighboring pond. 

“Hmph,” Melchior grumbled as he got to his feet, “if you spend half as much time practicing your artes as much as your showmanship, you’d have-”

He was interrupted when he was drenched from above by a deluge of water that came from nowhere. Upset, he yanked off his hat and looked above to see the for real-real Magillanica, standing on a branch, with an even larger smirk on her face. 

He calmed down and a new smile appeared. “Perhaps there is hope for you yet.”

*

“As you know, Magillanica, the work of the Shepard is of utmost importance. And as such, our duty as the Shepard’s Shadow is to be willing, without hesitation, to ensure that his work is never compromised,” he said with a look at the ashen top of Mount Killeraus. 

“Yes, father,” an even older Magnillanica answered, mulling over his lesson. She knew there was time for them to be family and there was time for business. This was business. There would be time as family afterward. 

“I will be frank with you,” he turned to her, “I have been alive for far too long. Which is why I offered you the chance to become my successor. For I believe that you have the will, the intellect, and the devotion to our ideals to ensure that humanity has a future to call their own.” His eyes shone with the pride in her, in her growing skill, and more. It was hard for her not to take his hand and squeeze it affectionately, which was a common sight between them. 

Magillanica smiled, feeling the Oaths she had taken, flow through her blood and that would keep her youthful and vigorous for decades, even centuries. She looked to the peak, mulling over the plans they have made, including the contingencies and backups. Nothing was beyond her notice. “I will make you proud, father.”

He nods. “I know you will.”

As they both depart back to their library, Melchior pauses for a moment and adjusts his step. He then continues on his way. 

Curious, Magillanica looks to the ground and cocks an eyebrow at the sight of a flower. How odd for something so small and delicate to be able to bloom in a harsh environment such as here. And stranger still for Melchior to avoid stepping on it. Then again, his favorite activity was tending to his flower garden. 

She huffs and walks on and over the flower without a second thought. 

*

The disdain in his voice was evident. 

“You had failed, Magillanica.”

On her knees, she fought against the tears that flooded her eyes before she whirled on Melchior. “How dare you…” she hissed. 

His ‘last trial’ wasn’t so much a trial as it was an insult. 

He had crafted an illusion of her home. Her parents, obviously older and weaker, were overjoyed at her return. 

Naturally, she already knew it was a fake because her parents never showed her that kind of affection.

Still, she couldn’t help herself and fell for the ruse. They had been dead for years. The town had been razed by a dragon a few years after her departure. 

“Hmph. Bold words from one who cannot tell the difference between a fantasy and reality,” he said condescendingly, stroking his beard.

“You recreated something that never existed!” she roared, getting up to her feet on shaky legs, “you lying, two-faced, dishonest wretch!”

Melchior was not phased. “And here I thought I had trained you to be above such superfluous connections. After all, what greater weakness is there to the ideals of the Abbey than that?”

“Ideals?! IDEALS?!” Magilou shouted as she gripped her hands hard enough to draw blood, “Is that all this was?! Just a test to see if I was capable of living up to your precious standards?!”

Melchior snorted. “Of course. You think utilizing me as a replacement to the peasants you gave you to that troupe was an act of mercy? Don’t be absurd, child. The ideals of the Abbey are absolute and paramount! And they coincide with humanity’s survival! Such needless attachments must be severed.”

She sniffed a bit. Thinking of all the pleasant dinners, the days off, the forays and expeditions into the library, the days in the flower garden, she being his pride and joy. 

Lies.

It was all lies. 

She gripped her hands harder as she gnashed her teeth. 

And she believed them!

She opened her fists and slammed her palms into the ground. An instant later, stone spikes shot out of the earth, attempting to impale Melchior, but found only an illusion instead. 

She growled, and swung her hands to summon several bladed wind disks towards another tree. Again, another illusion. 

“Come out!” she shouted to the abandoned ruins of the town she grew up in. “WHERE ARE YOU?! ARE YOU REALLY SCARED TO FACE ME?!”

“Again,” Melchior mumbled as he appeared directly behind her, “don’t be absurd.”

When his palm hit her back, she screamed as his immense magical power shot through her body. Lightning bolts sizzled her skin as she then fell to the ground. 

“Hmph. Such a waste,” he mumbled before turning around and leaving the comatose Magillanica alone as rain began to fall. 

*

Through the woods, Magillanica walked with a drone-like gait. Her steps were even, but lifeless as her arms swung limply at her sides. 

She looked up to the falling rain, not entirely sure what it was. It meant something, but what was it?

“Madam Magnolia!” Bienfu screeched as he materialized above her. 

She looked up dumbly at the malak that was clearly in a panic. 

“Can you hear me? Can you understand what I’m saying?” he asked worriedly. 

She looked at him dumbly, her mouth hung open, her gaze foggy, and her head tilted before she began to walk again. 

“Madam Magnolia!” he squealed again as he, with all his might, pulled her by the hand deeper into the woods. He was out of options! Furthermore, it was going to be dark soon and who knew what lurked in the shadows in this part of the world. 

“Just hold on! I have a friend that can help us!” he garbled as he yanked her further to parts unknown. 

*

“Bienfu, really,” the older malak sighed, “is it really that important that I should help this human? She may as well be dead, given the sheer amount of magical force that’s left her more or less in a vegetative state.”

“Please, Grim!” Bienfu sobbed, “she’s more than just a human. She’s the only friend I’ve ever had!” 

Grimoire’s stare wavered from him to the human who was practically drooling on the bed she had summoned. It wasn’t just the fact that finding the poor girl inside the nearly hollow shell would be a challenge in it of itself, but whatever put her in such a state to begin with was elaborate. 

Thankfully, knowing it would cease Bienfu’s crying, it wasn’t impossible to break. 

“It will take time, but your friend will recover. The artes I need to perform will be considerably difficult, and I will need your assistance to be able to bypass the locks made on her psyche,” she said as she crawled up Magnolia’s shoulder and peered into her eye. 

“She’ll be ok then?” Bienfu sniffed while raining tears. 

“In time, yes,” she would not mention that there was no guarantee she’s be the same person when she woke up. 

“Anything!” Bienfu whined, “Anything to have Madam back!”

She looked away from Magnolia to him a moment before returning to her examination. He just may come to regret that statement. 

*

A year passes by quickly for Malak. 

That is a fact that does not surprise Grimoire when Magnolia finally beings to stir.

The poor child is emaciated, starving, and dehydrated. Even with her and Bienfu taking care of her, the artes that keep her from aging will no doubt take its toll on her, both mentally and physically. 

“Where..?” Magnolia croaks. 

“You are safe, friend,” Grimoire assures her as she walked up on her shoulder, as she has done multiple times, and peers into her eye. “Do you remember anything?”

“I… remember… the old man,” her eyes level and anger starts to well up inside. 

“Calm yourself, child,” Grimoire orders before she is violently tossed off and to the ground as Bienfu stirs and notices the commotion.

“Don’t call me that!” she shouts, “that twisted, old fruit called me that! I hate it! I HATE IT!” She holds her hands to her ears, in some vain attempt to unhear Grimoire’s statement. 

“Madam Magnolia! You’re alright!” Bienfu states before his joy immediately vanishes when Magnolia begins to sniff and curl up into a ball. 

“Leave me alone,” she whimpers, “just leave me alone!”

Grimoire, unsurprised at the response, picks herself up and moves over to a shocked Bienfu. 

“Come, she needs some time to herself,” Grimoire says before she inclines her head to the side of the room, “there is food and water for you when you are ready.”

Magnolia says nothing and weeps quietly. 

Bienfu is in tears, again, as Grimoire leads him out of the room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments are always appreciated. Writing is hard work and hearing why people enjoy your work is very validating and it is practically the lifeblood of our creativity. So, please, if you can, take a moment to leave a comment about what and why you liked it. It's ok, I don't bite. Honest. >.>


	3. Chapter 3

Another week has passed.

Thankfully, Magnolia is eating again. Slowly, her strength is returning. 

Yet, she has gone quiet. She does not smile. She does not laugh. She rarely speaks. 

However, for Grimoire, this is normal. 

It takes everything she can to make sure Bienfu does not interfere with her reorientation. 

Then, Magnolia begins to ask questions. 

“How long have I been out?” she asks bluntly. 

“Roughly a year,” Grimoire answers, “Bienfu and I have been taking care of you the whole time.”

Magnolia says nothing and takes another bite of the sweet bread Bienfu has brought her the day before. After a moment, she speaks up again. 

“What happened to me?”

“You were struck by a powerful sealing arte. It was not meant to kill you, but render you in a state where you would be completely and utterly helpless. Were it not for Bienfu bringing you to me, you would have most likely starved or been eaten by wild animals.”

Magnolia’s lips thin out irritably. “I guess that was his perverted notion of ‘mercy’. I don’t suppose you have any idea as to what’s been going on since I’ve been out?”

She shook her head. “Malak like myself prefer to be left alone. If we choose live close to civilization, we do. I, on the other hand, do not.”

Magnolia snorted. “My loss then.”

“So then, Magnolia, what are your intentions, now that you’re no longer comatose?”

A frown creased her face. “What else? Get revenge on the old man and shit all over his precious ‘ideals’!”

Grimoire tilted her head. “Because it worked so well last time.”

Magnolia’s glare was palpable. However, she took a deep breath and sleeked her hair back. “You’re right. I hate that you’re right.”

“Would you like some assistance?” she offered.

“How so? Also, what do you want in exchange?” Magnolia probes with suspicious eyes. 

“I can teach you Malak artes that not even your old teacher knows. Granted, it’s no guarantee of victory, however, it can provide you an edge he does not.”

Magnolia leaned in, an eye twitching. “And what do you get out of it? You hate the old man as much as I do?”

Grimoire shook her head. “Not entirely. However, I am well aware of his and the Abbey’s plans. Been aware of it for a while.”

It was then several gears inside Magilou’s head clicked together and she looked out to the exit of the humble abode they lived in. 

“Wait… does this have to do with Claudin Asgard’s visions? The Abbey’s Ideals?”

Grimoire nodded. “I served with him briefly during his lifetime when he was an exorcist. And the rare occasions when he was sober. Your mentor, like many others in the Abbey, misunderstood Asgard’s words. And since then, he seeks to enforce his malformed reason on others.”

Magnolia’s face turned to a determined frown. “The Fifth Empyrean.”

“The same.”

She then looked to Grimoire. “Anything you can teach me. But please understand, I’m not doing this for anyone. I’m not a hero.”

Grimoire held her paw to her cheek. “You don’t seem to be the type, anyway.”

She huffed loudly. “People tend not to be so when you get everything you can out of them and toss them aside like a used tissue.”

The crude analogy aside, Grimoire nodded in comprehension. “Very well then. Shall we begin?”

“Yes,” she said with a small smirk at the idea of surpassing Melchior, “let’s.”

*

For another two years, Magilou’s skill returns and exceeds her previous limits by leaps and bounds. Her use of Guardian spirits has become more flexible. She is capable of riding them as if they were a geoboard. She can summon them en masse and have them attack her foes. She can bend and stretch their paper anchors into forms and shapes the material would not allow them to. 

She is now ready to go forth. However, she is not ready to face the old coot just yet. She needs to get a lay of the land. Put her ear to the ground and see what malicious mischief the Abbey is up to. 

With Bienfu in tow, she decides it’s time to set the stage for her big debut and to bring the world under her heel… from the stage!

Henceforth, she needs a better name. 

Magillanica Lou Mayven is a boring, stupid name, given by a boring, stupid old man with delusions of grandeur. 

She’s better than that. 

She is no longer that name. 

She is Mazhigigika Miludin do Din Nolurun Dou!

Or, Magilou Mayvin for short. 

She, against her better judgment, is going to keep the old fart’s last name. When she has him ground into the dirt, she’ll make it evident that SHE is the true Mayvin. 

And the world will tremble beneath her might, majesty, and marvelousness! 

Not to mention all the money they will shower her in. 

A girl has her priorities, after all. 

*

Magilou is a hit wherever she goes!

Relatively speaking. 

She draws enough of an audience to help pay for food and lodging. Of course, she knows how to network and keeps meticulous notes to make sure no detail is missed. Especially when it comes to the Abbey interfering where they should not be. 

Of course she hears about rumblings about the Scarlet Night. She herself had seen it several times and while she had miraculously survived every occurrence, her notes did not provide all the answers she needed about its function, it causes, and, most importantly, why the Abbey always seemed to be engaged in high activity around one. Personnel movements, stockpiling supplies, gathering of more materials. To her frustration, she remembers never taking the chance to study up on it while she was Melchior’s apprentice. 

It reeks of shenanigans of the worst kind!

She also hears about someone calling himself the Shepherd. 

Artorious Colbrand. 

Despite having use of only one arm, he is a master swordsman of unparalleled skill and a personification of everything the Abbey stands for. 

Which is very, very bad!

She digs up everything she can about him. To her frustration, records about him was sparse and had little to tell her and it was all a wash until it all came to a small hamlet in Eastgand, called Aball, the Village of Longing.

Why in the world would he be spending so much time there?

To her surprise, and disgust, he lives with a pair of siblings on the edge of the village. Probably don’t know what a character he really is. 

She had shadowed the man for weeks, watching him, the sickly child, and the woman that seems to be the caretaker of them all, if anything. A pity. She seems like a capable hunter, capable of living off the land if she was so inclined. She looks old enough to be the age Magilou is supposed to be now… give or take a few years, but that’s besides the point. She has nice eyes too. Gold hued amber, and the long black braid she’s sporting is not bad either. 

But she digresses. 

He meets with Melchior in secret at the ruins of a temple on a cliff side. Naturally, she has to observe from farther than she’d like or else the old man would know she’s there. 

It’s only guesswork on her part, and with a bit of insight from Bienfu, but the pit in the middle of the ruins is a gateway to the slumbering god, Innominat, the Fifth Empyrean. 

Grimoire had warned her about this one. 

They wanted to revive it, but, from what she could assume, they were still missing a component of the ritual to bring the Empyrean to life once more. And if it did come back to life, bad things would happen. She didn’t know exactly what, but in her experience, being this clandestine about a being that can affect others so dramatically was a bad thing no matter which way one looked at it. 

Well then, she figures, she’s just going to have to frustrate those plans!

She’s got a good racket going and world domination, world destruction, or both, would completely ruin it!

Making the old man angry at being outplayed is the proverbial icing on the cake! Furthermore, her birthday was coming up and she wanted cake, dammit!

*

The Scarlet Night was not far off. Maybe a week or two out, if she read her astrologers charts correctly. 

The moon is getting progressively redder and unless she finally gets her plans into motion and assassinates this Colbrand character, he would succeed. And she was not going to let that happen. 

Bienfu, naturally, expressed his concerns about her murdering a man in cold blood. 

She, naturally, addressed those concerns, with regular punishment for talking back, about how one man could bring about the deaths of far many more and his removal was a far better mercy. Abbey justification at its finest. 

So, with all the training Melchior gave her, she placed traps, wires, and other deadly tools at her disposal to render his… unfortunate passing, an accident or a natural occurrence. 

She couldn’t help but giggle. 

All of Melchior’s training and all the secrets he revealed to her about becoming the Shephard’s Shadow, used to kill the Shepherd himself? 

The irony was delicious. 

Speaking of which, she mused idly as she set up the last of her traps to hurl the fool to his death either into the side of the wall at high speeds or into the pit itself, she could really go for some borscht right now.

Her thoughts were interrupted when she realized that she was not alone. 

She hopped away via transposition arte to land on one of the remaining pillars to see Melchior looking around at her work with a discerning eye. 

“Hmm, and here I taught you to be more discreet than this,” he noted while stroking his beard. 

Magilou smirked. “What can I say? Showmanship is my greatest strength and weakness.”

He was not amused. “To think that you have fallen so far after all I had taught you.”

“A lesson wasted for one is one learned for another,” she quipped, keeping her gaze on him, watching the traps she set just for him. She knew he’d try to interfere. That is what the Shepherd’s Shadow is for, after all. 

“A lesson learned too late for-” he said as he took another step, which set a trap meant specifically for him in the form of a combined wind and water arte to send a glob of icy water to freeze him in place. Yet, it missed, as she knew it would as she jumped to the ground level to find him. He always was a sneaky, old bastard. 

Feeling lucky, she picks up a rock and hurls it at an empty space to her right. Surely enough, it hits something solid and Melchior rematerialized. 

She doesn’t give herself a chance to gloat as she whirls and sends several bladed wind discus at him. Words give him time and the less time he has, the easier it is for her. 

Again, he vanishes and she continues to summon more artes with different elements to spaces she knows where he will reappear. Every one of her attacks hits, but only the shield he has around his person. 

She cannot, she will not, give him a chance to breathe. 

One by one, traps made specifically for mages and artes masters go off, sending the old man scrambling for safety with her not far behind upon an expanded guardian board. She stretches another and swings it upward, letting it stretch higher into the sky, gathering weight, air, and fire elemental energy and then brings it down upon him like an executioner’s ax. Surely enough, it explodes, but she knows he’s not dead yet as his shield begins to fail. 

She whips out three more guardian papers, activates the earth and fire elements in them, and hurls them at him at high speed, jumping immediately after them to finish him off. 

Victory is hers!

The first two guardians explode as planned, creating a fiery smokescreen, however, when the third doesn’t go off, she realizes her mistake too late as Melchior is somehow able to throw it back at her. 

She holds her arms against her face to protect against the heat, aware Melchior is taking advantage of it. Her eyes open for only a moment to see Melchior’s wind arte speeding towards her. It collides against her with the weight of a boulder.

Darkness and blessed oblivion takes her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments are always appreciated. Writing is hard work and hearing why people enjoy your work is very validating and it is practically the lifeblood of our creativity. So, please, if you can, take a moment to leave a comment about what and why you liked it. It's ok, I don't bite. Honest. >.>


	4. Chapter 4

When she finally comes to, she feels as though someone has taken a hammer to her head, repeatedly. 

She grumbles as she gets to her feet to notice herself in a dank cell. The light is sparse and the humidity is murderous. Furthermore, Bienfu is gone! The little coward must have run off again! Without that little cretin, she’s powerless!

“Ah, look who’s awake?” a new voice says from across the cell block.

“Look,” she begins as she gets up to stand against the cell bars rubbing her eyes to clear them up, “just so I can tell my imaginary girlfriend what this dream is about, ok? Where am I?”

“Hmm,” the shadow in the other cell says before standing up themself, “how do I put this gently.”

“Friend,” Magilou interrupts, “I’ve seen enough to know that I don’t need it put gently. Where are we?”

“Fine,” the shadow says as it too leans against the bars to reveal itself as a humanoid boar, “you, like everyone else here, is a ‘guest’ of the Abbey. Welcome to the luxurious estate called Titania. Where scum, villains, and the dregs of society all come together.”

Magilou groans audibly. Not only does she know about this place, but she has sent daemons here as well. And now, she’s trapped here too. Though, she has to give the daemon a bit of credit for actually being able to level the right amount of sarcasm about their current conditions. 

“Fantastic,” she whispers to herself more than anyone, “so, when’s chow?”

“Eh, it’ll come soon enough,” he answers, “though, with the security detail we got, it’s a miracle they feed us at all.”

“So, no Continental Breakfasts?”

“Nope.”

“Damn.”

“We all make the best of it, hoping for an earthquake or something equally horrible to give ourselves a fleeting chance at freedom.”

As tempting as it is to burst his bubble that no one has been able to escape Titania, she’s not in the mood. Furthermore, she’s angry that Bienfu is gone. The little traitor. 

She should have known that he’d high tail it out of there the instant he had a chance. Her abuse of him notwithstanding. 

She clenched her fist in anger at the latest betrayal she had to endure. For a moment, it almost seemed like she had someone she could actually rely on and, perhaps, find a place where she could call home. 

Oh well. Like a fool, she keeps hurting herself. 

*

Time passes slowly in Titania. If you’re not sleeping, you’re eating scraps of food the guards don’t eat and that’s being generous. 

The only changes that occur is when a new prisoner is brought into their own cell. Thankfully, Magilou has been fortunate enough to have her own little room. She never liked sharing anyway. And not just because if she got paired with a demon, they’d tear her to shreds, either.

Everyone looked up to see a dozen exorcists, dragging something into the cell block with glowing, golden chains. She blinked and tilted her head to get a better view of what they were carrying.

Lo and behold, it’s that same girl from Aball. The one that was living with Artorious. And goodness, she looks angry. If judging by the glowing red and black magical scarring on her left arm that left it hideously disfigured was of any indication, she was understandably upset. She was growling, she was snarling, and by the Empyreans the sheer hatred in her eyes was nothing if not frightening. Magilou wagered a guess and sure enough, Artorious Colbrande strode in with his Malakhim in tow. 

She frowned. Why couldn’t Magilou have an attractive Malakhim like that one? Her hair was fantastic, legs that stretched a mile, and that rack! Oh, a pox on her misfortune to be stuck with a useless Normin like Bienfu instead of that piece of work! Magilou’s less than innocuous thoughts about what she’d do with her were interrupted when Artorious announced for everyone, not just the girl they dragged in, to hear. 

“Know the weight of your sins, Velvet. Let the blood of those you’ve murdered cry out for justice as you pay your debt to society,” he said. 

She had to cock an eyebrow at that. 

If she had to make another guess, that poor girl was not transformed into whatever she was now by choice. 

She huffed quietly to herself in disgust. 

Typical man that would lay his sins on the shoulders of a woman. 

Well, it seemed like they were all going to be prisonmates for the time being. 

That and letting the fact that she had failed pretty much rail what little confidence she had left in herself.

If only she had succeeded, then that poor girl wouldn’t be rotting in that arte reinforced, pit jail cell right now. 

Magilou felt wretched. That same damn voice that told her she was worthless, the one that once sounded like the old troupe master, now sounding like herself, berated her for being such a disgrace. 

But, what else was new?

*

Time continues to go slowly in Titania. 

Three long, boring, claustrophobic years pass. 

Thankfully, it gives Magilou a proper opportunity to refine her craft. A captive audience is still an audience, no?

“-and so he climbs down the ladder, turns to the clown, and says, ‘what, and give up show business?’” she ends with an excited grin.

Every one of the daemons within earshot are laughing. Maybe it’s because she’s the only thing that gives them a bit of relief from the fact they will never see the sun again that these terrible jokes are so tolerable. Even with all her material, she prays they can’t tell the parts of the stories she’s reused. 

“Oh, brother. Mags, that was awful,” says a lizard daemon as he’s holding his sides. 

“You mean ‘awfully great’, right?” she offers with her trademarked ‘Magickazam’ pose. 

It gets a few more chuckles, but by this point, everyone’s had their fill of funny stories and jokes for now. 

Admittedly, Magilou is also a bit worn out. After all, one can only do so much on a barely filled stomach. 

She is about to take another nap when she hears the clicking and clacking of shoes too refined for a place such as this. 

She blinks in confusion at the sight of the Malak Artorious brought with her. More indecent thoughts fill her mind at the prospect of having her for herself, but they are soon broken up when she enters the cell of the one called Velvet. 

Her eyes go wide. They have dumped everything from political dissidents, to fallen exorcists, to daemons, and more inside there. And nothing, aside from the sound of suffering and death, has ever come out. 

She expects to hear screaming and other horrid sounds, but there isn’t any. 

Curiouser still is when she exits the cell with Velvet in tow and goodness gracious is she a mess. Aside from the rags of her old clothes, she is covered in blood, dirt, and worse. 

To the confusion of everyone else in the cellblock, Ceres, the malak, seems to be leading Velvet out. 

Sure enough, a pair of exorcists appear and attempt to block their path. 

They fail. It doesn’t do it justice to say they failed. 

The prisoner dispatches them both easily, but the way she does it piques Magilou’s interest when she gets a closer look at the one named Velvet. 

Muscles! Nevermind the fact she was never malnourished because of all the victims the Abbey sent down for her to probably consume, but by the gods, she was muscular! She was not emaciated like the rest of them! And, again, those muscles! They made her dark brown skin look absolutely gorgeous!

By the Empyreans, she could touch those biceps and never know want again!

Her crops would be bountiful!

Her self-loathing cured!

Her booking agents would actually pick up the check!

Of course, like her stream of ill fortune has proved, they leave. The rest of the daemons and herself still locked in their cells. 

She huffs once more. Two aesthetically pleasing individuals are practically delivered to her on a silver platter and she can’t indulge?!

Fate is cruel indeed. 

Yet, it’s not long after they have exited, all their cells are opened by magic!

Soon enough, a dingy looking man, in robes that come from the faraway land of Japon, comes running in and lets everyone know there’s a riot to get out of here. 

Magilou is not so convinced.

They would not have placed this many daemons in one place unless they had a force of soldiers large enough to contain it. 

So, as the flood of escapees rush to their certain doom, she follows the malak and the woman. 

After a brief altercation with them, they proceed to the back docks, where there is probably another ship waiting for them. 

Magilou, ever the sneaky sultan of stealth, shadows them and watches them encounter a Legate.

Oscar Dragonia? Oh, yes, that little snot nosed, butt-less, goodie-goodie princeling that couldn’t have been more bland if he tried. 

Imagine Magilou’s surprise when he tries to be a condescending in his victory before it even happens, only to have Velvet throw a rock that barely misses his perfect face and strikes one of his enslaved malak into the wall with surprising force.

She matches eyes with him and with her bandaged hand alone, beckons him to fight like a thousand slaps across his precious face. 

Magilou’s heart skips a beat.

As she fends off Oscar the Butt-less, Magilou can’t help but fan herself and imagine the possibilities of joining this firebrand of a woman. 

“No, gurl. Don’t even think about it,” she whispers to herself from the shadows. Relationships are anathema to her and she frankly doesn’t have the self-esteem to imagine the scenario of her being committed to anyone. 

Unfortunately, her restraint is a rare commodity these days. 

“Too late. Oh well,” she says to herself quietly with an even larger smirk growing on her lips at the thought of being touched by the strong hands of Velvet Crowe. There would be time for sighing had one of the malaks not turned into a dragon. She hugged the walls she sat against when the combat eventually ended with that pretty malak getting skewered, which was a gruesome sight enough by itself.

But for Velvet to go ahead and devour it with that demonic hand she now had? She couldn’t tell if she was aroused or horrified! Maybe both!

Either way, the slowboat to freedom was about to depart. Thankfully, the Japon man, Roukurou Rangetsu, had reappeared and after a brief discussion about alliances, they depart. 

*

None of them are much good when it comes to steering the ship, thankfully, Roukurou, like a child with a new toy, is ever eager to learn how with an exuberance that puts herself and Velvet’s apathy to shame. It gets the job done and they have no complaints. 

Besides, Magilou thinks to herself as she rubs her hands together greedily, it gives her time to make a few moves of her own. 

Velvet, determined as she was, if not more so, before she was jailed, is peering through the registry for anything that may be of use in the captains cabin as Magilou enters quietly. 

“What do you want?” Velvet snaps as she puts another useless registry log back in the bookcase by the desk.

“Oh, many things,” Magilou answers with a coy smile and an idle shift of her hips this way and that, accentuating her womanly curves… despite remembering she having all the proportions of a stick, “a Heavenly Fruit Parfait, a full body massage, a sizable and stable investment portfolio with large quarterly returns. You know, the usual.”

Velvet’s eyes leveled in annoyance. 

She’s blunt. That’s good. No need to beat around the bush, then. 

“All jests aside, as of this moment, we both stand quite a bit to gain from the death of Shepherd Artorious. So, for the time being, we’re working together for a common goal. That doesn’t mean we can’t make other shady deals with each other in the meantime,” she wiggles her fingers in a blatant display of how deviant she is. 

Velvet folds her arms together. “What’s your angle?” she presses, clearly suspicious. 

“Tut tut tut,” Magilou waves a finger at her, “what’s adventure without a little surprise, hm?”

Velvet’s frown deepens. “Forget it.”

Magilou balks. She's a master businesswoman! How can she be… oh right, the whole all consuming revenge. 

“Ok, fine,” Magilou concedes, dropping the act. If she wants to see Melchior buried, she needs this woman’s strength. “You hate the Abbey. I hate the Abbey. Wanna join forces and kill them?”

“It's Artorious I want,” Velvet snarls, “I want to see him suffer.” She grabs onto the ledge of the captain’s lavastone redwood desk. “I want to shatter every bone in his body!” Her grip begins to eat through the wood that, by all rights, should not be so easily cracked. “I want to break him the same way he tried to break me!” Her hand literally bites through the wood, sending chips everywhere, making Magilou reevaluate her approach, lest she suffer the same fate.

“Glad to see you're committed,” Magilou notes with a smirk. “Just so happens that his death works in both of our favor.”

“Why should I bring you? You don’t seem capable of doing more than lying and distracting people,” Velvet is still suspicious. Already, Magilou is starting to regret all those dirty thoughts about that outfit she wears, those delicious abs notwithstanding. 

“You wound me,” Magilou pouts as cutely as she can, “I have contacts. I know my way around these parts. I can be of great use to you. And all I ask is that you help me find someone that betrayed me. Once we find them, I can show you what I’m capable of.”

Velvet considers her for a while, saying nothing. Her eyes are still narrowed and untrusting. 

“No deal.”

Magilou’s face faults in disbelief. So much for her master businesswoman skills. 

“You can’t be serio-” she is interrupted when the storm outside they had been ignoring unleashes its full strength and sends them tumbling into the wall. 

Fortunately for Magilou, she has landed on Velvet, her head just above the valley of Velvet’s noticeable lady fun bags and that absolutely scrumptious abdomen. 

With a suave smile, Magilou asks to Velvet’s face, “Hi, there! You come here often?”

Velvet doesn’t get a chance to reply as the ship leans in the opposite direction, this time sending a screaming Magilou into the wall by the door. Velvet, more prepared this time, punches her way through with her demonic appendage, leaving a shocked Magilou to stumble after her. 

“Do you have any sense of proportion?!” she screeches as a thunder crash follows immediately after, aware of the hypocrisy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome, ladies and gentlemen, and children of all ages (with adult supervision and death and dismemberment waivers!) to Magilou Mayven's Tilt 'N' Tumble! Here YOU can recreate the revolutionary ruckus filled ride of the Great Magilou Mayven experienced as she began her adventure with the devious, devlish, and delightful Velvet Crowe! Vomit Bags are $2.50 a piece!


	5. Chapter 5

Magilou knows when to cut her losses. And sadly, Velvet Crowe, as potentially a powerful ally as she could be, is too much of a loose cannon for her to deal with.

A pity. The makeout would have been spectacular.

So, they part ways, wishing each other other well, which didn’t exactly happen, but Magilou would insist that it was implied.

She needs to find Bienfu, punish him severely, and get her plans back to rolling before things get worse.

As much as it pains her to admit it, using Ms. Crowe as a distraction for the Abbey is a much more sound plan for the immediate future. Who knows, maybe Magilou can sweep in, save the day, and then Ms. Crowe will realize her true feelings for the marvelous Magilou and ‘then’ they could make out.

A perfect plan!

Yet, in order to enact those plans, she needs to get to Loegres and search for that ungrateful normin!

And having only escaped from Titania the other day, she is without coin. So, she has to take the next best option.

Some common people would dare call it stowing away. Magilou would prefer calling it ‘Preemptive Charity’.

Sadly, the guards on the boat find her hiding in the cargo hold after ‘taste testing’ some of the supplies meant for the journey.

“I must protest this treatment!” Magilou argues as she’s dragged by two guards as her hands are bound, “I was experimenting the rations to ensure they weren’t poisoned! How rude!”

She is then brought in front of Teresa Linares.

If Oscar the Butt-less was the standard for the blandest of the bland, then Teresa was his female counterpart for sociopathic aristocrats. Of course, there was the whole ‘born out of wedlock from an illicit affair’ deboggle she found unsettling every time, and Magilou is serious when she says EVERY TIME, she dotes on Oscar the Butt-less. It was hard not to notice it when everyone was in training, but their family’s influence more or less shielded them from any scrutiny… save from Magilou’s judgment.

Teresa was wound so tight, Megilou was tempted to flick a hair out of place and see if she’d snap. And she probably would, but since there was no one around to make that wager with her, she wouldn’t risk it, especially without Bienfu.

Sadly, she didn’t get a chance to test out her theory when Teresa strode up to her and struck her cheek hard enough to make Magilou fall over. Unceremoniously, she lands on her side and smiles a bit, because Magilou is NOT going to forget this.

“Stand this thing up,” Teresa orders the orderlies. It does Magilou’s shriveled heart good to know she hasn’t changed much, if at all, during her days in training.

Roughly, she is brought to her feet as Teresa steps in close enough to let Magilou smell the Smoked Gouda cheese she had for lunch earlier that day.

“Tell me, witch,” Teresa orders quietly, the promise of pain underneath every syllable, “where is the woman you were with? The one with the long black hair and the shredded coat?”

Magilou laughs. “Oh, Miss Legate. I am afraid to inform you that she’s not interested. A pity, is it not? I know you’d hope she’d be a tiger in the sack, but alas, her heart has been teased, tortured, and taken by yours truly! And she’d sooner end herself than betray her violet, vital vows to me!”

Teresa slaps her again.

Twice.

With nails this time.

She then pinches Magilou’s cheeks. “Answer me, harlot, or else I will have your fingers pulled off, one after the other!”

Magilou doesn’t back down. “Torture? How mundane. I assure you, Miss Legate, there is no need for something so frivolous.”

“Oh?” Teresa asks with a cocked eyebrow.

“Because I was going to tell you everything, anyway!” Magilou says with a smile. ‘Everything’ being a perfectly vague term which will, in the end, mean absolutely nothing, but it still sounded exciting.

The announcement has the desired effect, though, the consequences were a bit different that she’d hoped. She was still bound and was probably going to be mutilated anyway, since Teresa definitely had the inhumane torture fetish underneath that layer of respectability and dignity. It was a trait of all aristocrats at this point, legitimate or otherwise.

Of course, Velvet and Rokurou come to her rescue, or so she claims.

When Teresa isn’t looking, she unbinds herself when the port ware houses light up and takes off before she can be restrained again. Who’s training these exorcists anyway?! The can’t tie a knot to save their lives!

Another battle, a malakhim hostage taken, a dramatic escape, and a chance adventure leads them out to sea to safety in a most exciting fashion that Magilou will most certainly put in one of her upcoming adventure novels, ‘The Swordsman, the Witch, and the Queen of Vengeance!’ under one of her many pennames.

Then there was the sequel, ‘The Ne’er-do-wells of Needless Nastiness’! Where the Witch and the Queen of Vengeance got married and conquered the world with the Swordsman and their new allies; the Cursed Pirate Admiral, the Errant and Wayward Priestess, and the Angel of Kindness! It would be convoluted, confusing, and confounding! And it would make millions!

*

Several, martial, emotional, and sexual, encounters later...

 

With a contented sigh, Magilou rolls off of Velvet and on her stomach next to Velvet in the bed they’re sharing. She smiles at Velvet and takes her hand.

“So, was I great or what?” Magilou asks with a cheesy grin. She knows how to make Velvet laugh. Or, at the very least, chuckle. She’s not as dead inside as much as she insists she is, but it’s easy to think that way, given what has happened to her.

Velvet leans up and leaning against her hand, exposing those abdominals that Magilou just can’t get enough of. Even in the evening, with her dark brown skin, Velvet was a sight that made Magilou’s heart flutter again and again. She’d place statues of Velvet’s abs all over the world if she could!

Velvet smirks. “A laugh riot, every time.”

This arrangement of theirs, while certainly off to a rocky start, was everything Magilou wanted it to be. Two lonely women finding something aside from their need for bloody vengeance against the men that wronged them to find comfort in.

Coincidentally, it was also the plot of another novel she was working on as well, but that was neither here nor there.

“Velcakes,” she asks with her pet name of her lover, “something on your mind?”

Velvet lays back down and stares at the ceiling. “Yes. It’s Eleanor.”

Magilou smiles. Ever since the woman in question had protected Velvet when she was under the influence of the Frenzy, a state where Velvet needs to feed relentlessly, so she would go out during the night in the wilds and comes back the next morning worn out and exhausted, both of them had taken a shining to the once stiff and adversarial woman.*

“You think she’s coming around?” Magilou asks as a smile forms, recalling her invitation to join Magilou and Velvet’s ‘arrangement’.

Velvet nods. “I think so. I was never the best judge about peoples’ temperaments.”

Magilou smirks. “That’s why you have me here! And I can tell you for a fact she is, but that’s not the important part.”

Velvet raises an eyebrow. “And what’s that?”

“Oh, little, trivial details about our Errant Exorcist. For example; she wears silks underneath her bloomers! It’s so adorable!”

Velvet snorts, slightly amused. “Down, girl. Down.”

Magilou barks, growls, and pants eagerly with her tongue out.

Velvet’s smile soon vanishes when she adds her statements together. “You weren’t rummaging through her things, were you?”

“Velcakes, you offend me!” she raises a finger as if to emphasize the point, “I just keep a small observation arte activated so I can see that adorable, peach-like tush of hers! So squeezable!”

Velvet rolls her eyes. “She’s right. You really are a degenerate.”

“And how!” Magilou replies eagerly, “but I’m your degenerate and I wouldn’t have it any other way!”

“Returning to the matter at hand,” Velvet noted, interrupting, “even if she is on our side, technically, I’m still a bit worried.”

“Oh, you’ve nothing to worry about. It’s not a matter of if, but when.”

“What makes you say that?”

“Remember the silks?” Magilou asks with a large, mischievous grin.

“…yes?” she replies, not liking where this was going.

“They’re black!”

“…what does that have to do with-”

“It’s obvious that she’s so prim and proper on the outside, but on the inside, she’s just as dirty as I am! Perhaps even moreso!” she squeals excitedly.

Velvet rolls her eyes, again, before rolling over to grab Magilou’s hips as she kisses her way up her back. “I wonder why I even bother sometimes.”

Magilou giggles, eager to receive Velvet’s attention once more. “You love it. You know you do!”

Velvet’s other hand sneaks underneath the covers to Magilou’s backside. “I do, but you’re still a degenerate.”

“Where is the lie?” Magilou answers incredulously as she rolls back over, throws her arms around Velvet’s brown, broad, and big muscular shoulders and kisses her again.

 _You’re setting yourself up for disappointment,_ the voice in her head mutters.

 **Hush,** she replies to it, mentally. 

 _It’s not going to last. One way or another, getting yourself involved is with them going to hurt you. Again,_ that same voice that keeps berating her mutters.

 **I said hush! You don’t know what’s going to happen,** she snaps back as Velvet kisses her way down Magilou’s stomach.

 _Either you or they die. Or, in a better scenario, you emerge victorious and go your separate ways. Either way, you’ll be alone again once they’re done with you. Just like everyone else,_ the voice warns.

 **SHUT UP! I’M NOT LISTENING TO YOU!** Magilou gasps as Velvet reaches her pelvis and tickles the skin with her breath.

_Fine. Just don’t say I didn’t warn you when they find out what a horrible person you are and have been. Why would they want to stick with someone who can’t be honest with themselves, if not others?_

She loses herself in Velvet’s touch as the other voice goes away, reveling, for a wonderful moment, that here and now, she belongs somewhere.

As Velvet kisses her entrance as she arches her back, Magilou offers a prayer in the form of a whimper to any deity that can hear her.

**Please. Don’t let it happen again. Don’t leave me alone again… please.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Magilou is referring to the first story in this series, "Stranger than Fiction, Normal than Fact'.


	6. Chapter 6

How fortunate that while searching for the remaining Therions that they come across none other than the disgraced Lady Teresa, with a squad nearly dead at the hands of seasickness because they were too foolish to consider prevention.

So, for the time being, and while they recover, Teresa’s soldiers are tied up and recovering in the cages below decks. And, how fortunate for Magilou, Teresa has recovered enough to be able to walk around. Naturally, she is watched every second by everyone. However, Magilou’s going to make sure she has a bit of quality time with the former Governor of Hellawes.

Because, while Magilou is certainly not above being petty, she is certainly capable of finding anything that could be of relevance to their mission. Hopefully before she tries something stupid and Velvet devours her.

“Oh, how the mighty have fallen, haven’t they, Lady Teresa?” she taunts, sitting on a chair in the cargo hold.

Naturally, Teresa’s pride does not allow her to be spoken to by someone as base as Magilou, yet, the latter’s smile never falters in the face of the former’s glare.

“I should have tied an anchor to your ankles and tossed you into the bay,” she says as Magilou hops off and onto the floor.

“Could have, would have, should have,” Magilou responds with an amused smirk, “and yet, here we are.”

“I have nothing more to say to you, witch,” Teresa says as she begins to turn.

“Oh, does it still hurt? How someone as vile as the voracious Velvet knocked you off your pedestal and taken your baby bwother away?” Magilou rubs salt into the wound when she holds her hands under her chin and an exaggerated pout.

Naturally, Teresa whirls around faster than Magilou can register to strike her like before, only to have her wrist caught by someone else.

Eleanor, displeased at her own conduct, holds Teresa’s wrist fast and stands defiantly. “Please, Lady Teresa. Don’t.”

Teresa’s frown turns ugly as she yanks her hand out of Eleanor’s grip. “A fine thing to hear from a traitor like you.”

Eleanor flinches and Magilou frowns.

“Celebrate your minor victories while you can,” Teresa declares boldly, “when your little insurrection is crushed, the witch here will be burned at the stake. And then, Ms. Hume, you will wish you had joined her.”

Magilou’s eyes begin to narrow as Eleanor’s courage falters.

“When the Inquisitors are done with you, you will be stripped bare and raked over hot coals in front of the head congregation. And to ensure that the lessons are firmly ingrained, you will be lashed until not a single patch of skin is untouched. Finally, you will have a brand on your forehead, made from the hottest furnace to ensure that it stays etched in your skin, with a clear marker of what you are, Hume; a daemon’s wanton trollop. So easily swayed and eager to jump into the bed of a daemon such as Velvet Crowe like the guttertrash whore you are!”

Magilou takes a brief look at Eleanor, who’s practically shaking at this point, desperately trying to retain her dignity and poise. She then turns back to Teresa and smiles.

She reaches forward and invokes a Calming Arte before puts a hand on Eleanor’s shoulder. “You need not worry, Sweet Peach. Magilou’s got this covered. I am more than capable of handling chatty legates.”

The arte does its job and Eleanor’s breathing is settled. “Are you sure?” she asks as she briefly turns to Magilou to ensure Teresa doesn’t try anything.

Magilou gives her a reassuring smile and nods. Eleanor takes one last look at the stonefaced Teresa before she quietly pads out of the room.

“Hmm. And I suppose this is where you threaten me for threatening your ‘sweet peach’,” Teresa folds her arms in defiance.

Magilou begins to chuckle. Oh, how little she knows and less she understands.

“Threaten? Oh, no, no, no,” Magilou shakes her head, her smile not changing, “I don’t threaten people,” she continues before she snaps her fingers and without warning a blade of light slices through Teresa’s neck, decapitating her and sending the head flying off her shoulders and to the floor.

Teresa gasps as the illusory arte dissipates and looks around frantically to find nothing has happened, despite seeing clearly the sight of dying so abruptly.

Magilou’s grin stays constant as she chuckles.

“As I previously stated, Teresa the Terrible,” she folds her arms and locks gazes with the legate, “I don’t threaten people. I break them down, piece by piece. It was part of the artes I’ve learned how to extract information from moles and spies. Quite useful under the right circumstances, but honestly, it’s just a way to meddle with someone like yourself.”

“How dare you, a common witch, address me so!” Teresa is enraged at this point, which makes Magilou’s smile all the larger.

“Common? You offend me!” Magilou responds mockingly, “I am more than some common witch!” She strikes a pose. “I am the most wizened witch the world was ever wrested!” She whirls and twirls around to Teresa’s side. “With the adoration and adulations of millions, Magilou the Magnificent thrills and chills!” She dances and prances behind Teresa. “No tears nor jeers, preying off of fears of the audience while Magilou energetically, enthusiastically entertains!”

Unamused, Teresa rolls her eyes. “Ravings of a madwoman.”

Magilou chuckles as she walks back in front of her. “It does hold a certain _je ne se qua_ , no?”

“Humph. I was too lenient on you back in Hellawes. It would have been rather amusing to see what it would take for you to break,” Teresa is still defiant.

Magilou raises an eyebrow. “Break? Oh, oh, dear, sweet, naive Teresa the Terrible,” she begins with her palms pressed together, “you cannot break something that is already broken. It’d be redundant at this point.” She smiles sadly. “Frankly, there is not much left to break,” her eyes level dangerously as she continues, “however, and, I am aware I may be showing my hand a bit early, but throwing caution to the wind is my routine at this point, Eleanor is still, for the most part, whole. I suggest you keep your torture fantasies away from her.”

Teresa frowns. “And what would you do about it, witch?”

Magilou saunters up to Teresa and says, “I don’t care, really, what you say or want to do to me,” she leans up and whispers, “but if you harm Eleanor in any way, shape, or form; it will not end well for you.”

Teresa’s eyes narrowed. “So you are threatening me?”

Magilou snickered mischievously. “You? Oh, no. Certainly not. The reason why it wouldn’t be you is, eh heh,” she steps back with the most sinister smile she has ever preformed and holds her fingers to her lips, “he, unlike you, wouldn’t see it coming.”

Teresa’s eyes go wide. “You wouldn’t!”

Magilou’s smile is devilish at this point. “I would. I can. I will. And you would see it. Over,” she steps closer, “and over,” her voice quiets, “and over, in perfect detail.”

“Please, anything! Just don’t harm him!” she begs, falling to her knees.

Magilou’s smile is pleasant once again. “Then do as the Lord of Calamity commands. While I am sure we shall cross swords another time, I would imagine she is merciful enough to those who cooperate.”

“You despicable, degenerate-” she begins before Magilou waves her away.

“Yes, yes, all manner of degrading terms used by aristocrats in some vain attempt to devalue me. How droll,” she examines her fingernails, “I imagine now, knowing the terms as they are, you will behave?”

“If the Lord of Calamity will keep her word, I will keep mine. I will send a message back to Loegres and call off the Inquisitor squads.”

Magilou cocks an eyebrow. “That is unnaturally generous of you.”

Teresa looks to the ground in shame. “When there is someone in your life that you would do anything for, no price is too high to pay.”

Magilou snorts, then blinks. “Oh! That’s a lovely quote. Mind if I take it and use in one of my serials? Splendid!” she then skips her merry way out of the door, summoning Roukurou to keep Teresa company.

When she passes the swordsman on her way to reunite with Eleanor and Velvet, she smiles.

“Works every time,” she whispers to herself, “just like magic!” She truly is the master performer.

_And were you in her shoes, would you have begged for Velvet’s and Eleanor’s lives?_

**I AM NOT HEARING THIS FROM YOU!**

_Denial is nice, isn’t it?_

**SHUT UP!**

_What happens when its your lovers’ turns on the chopping block?_

**That won’t happen! They’re stronger! It can’t… it won’t happen to them!**

_Are you so certain?_

**More than you.**

_And who am I? I am you. Don’t forget that._

**I don’t have much choice, do I?**

_No. You don’t._

*

The trip from Lionel is uneventful, even with Magilou’s keeping a close eye on Teresa.

The Legate does behave, and her conversation, when there is any, is curt and to the point.

Magilou can’t help but respect that, as boring as it is. At least she does not beat about the bush.

However, it’s when they reach their brother to secure the last Therion is when everything goes south.

She appears to honor the deal until, to Magilou’s horror, allows herself to be attacked by the Therion, only for her to absorb it unto herself!

While certainly formidable as an exorcist Legate, her power has increased by several degrees and the instant she allows the power to settle, she turns her eye on Magilou.

Teresa, or whatever it is she has become, roars with an unholy frenzy and before Magilou can try to cast an arte to make good on her threat against the unconscious Oscar, she is tossed off her feet and into a standing rock formation.

She only have half an instant before Teresa presses her attack and Magilou summoning a guardian to shield her to hopefully slow the newly empowered Teresa down enough for her companions to face her as well.

It’s an unfortunate attempt, as the guaridan is easily shredded and she dives to the left before Teresa effortlessly cleaves the rock in two.

Roukuro attempts to use his blades to sever her newly grown wings, only for her to effortlessly dodge the attempt, grab him by one of his wrists, swing him into the air and into Velvet.

Laphicet’s magic fails to slow her down and even in the face of Eizen’s assault, she easily blocks and tosses him aside before Eleanor’s spear pierces her back. Sadly, it only seemed to enrage Teresa further as she grabs Eleanor by her jaw and lifts her into the air.

“Such a pity it ends like this, Hume!” Teresa seethes as she begins to crush her windpipe.

“Lineres!” Velvet roars.

The Legate turns to see Velvet standing over her brother’s comatose body, her gauntlet blade drawn and resting on Oscar’s neck.

“Put her down!” she snarls, drawing back to run him through.

Teresa’s eyes narrow in abject hatred a moment, before she slowly lets Eleanor down, only to throw her violently at Velvet.

Thankfully, an arte from both Magilou and Lapchicet spare them both any potential injuries before Teresa charges at them once more.

However, this time, Velvet is prepared and leaps into the air. With a swing of her Therion’s Claw as Teresa misses an attempt to grab her, pulls the life force out of her with a trail of bloody mist in her wake.

The legate falls.

And her brother not long after.

*

Their mission was a failure.

And all they can do now is return to Titania.

Curiously, Magilou finds Eleanor absent as they make the preparations to head out. The mission they came for in the morning was now giving way to evening.

To her surprise, she has discovered Eleanor has dug graves for both Teresa and Oscar and was kneeling in front of them.

The sight causes her to frown. Yet, she says nothing as she walks up beside her and folds her arms.

“I should be surprised this has happened,” she states quietly as the wind whips over their hair, “but I’m not.”

“That what happened?” Eleanor turns up to her.

Magilou shrugs. “Teresa ultimately going back on her word because she loved Oscar to the point where she willingly became a monster to protect him? That our mission was ultimately a failure because the Abbey is getting wise to our tricks? That you’ve given enemies that have shown no inclination for mercy a proper burial? Which is which for the witch, I wonder?”

Eleanor looked to the two unmarked stones pensively. “Lady Teresa was always aloof. Many thought that was because she had worked so hard for her position, despite her lineage, she felt herself better than most. I don’t know. However, I wonder if this was a fate she deserved.”

Magilou cocked an eyebrow before frowning. “Honestly, this was a woman who was going to strip you bare, roast you on coals, put you under the lash beyond recognition, and then brand you like a piece of chattel! And you mourn for her?!”

Eleanor could not answer her. Though, she had to admit, that it was not an easy answer to give. If there was an answer in the first place.

Another moment passed before Eleanor finally answered. “Oscar was all she had. I can understand why she did what she did. She wanted him safe.”

She was not convinced as Eleanor stood up. “And I am not ignorant of the horrible things he has done and said. How he dared try to justify Kamoana’s suffering.”

Magilou’s resentment cools for a moment as she continues. “Also, I don’t believe Teresa’s malice against me was personal,” her gaze falters elsewhere, “I am a traitor, after all.”

She looks to Eleanor and considers something that had never come to mind. Eleanor was a hard worker. She no doubt had sacrificed much in order to become a Praetor for the Abbey. Furthermore, she did it with the intent of helping people.

That was all gone now.

Every time they go into a town controlled by the Abbey, Eleanor has to wear a disguise in order to move about. She’s had to change her uniform, she’s had to change her hair, she’s had to change her voice. All in order to to hide from the fact that everyone she had known and worked with for years was hunting her like a dog now.

She no longer wears the frilled white dress uniform and blue sleeved jacket and gold trimmed leggings.

Instead, she wears common traveling leathers now.

When the Abbey had dispatched the Inquisitors to capture her, they had almost succeeded in a town after she had been recognized.

With tears in her eyes, Eleanor had burned the uniform she had worked so hard to obtain.

This was her life now; living like a criminal on the fringe of society.

Understanding, she pads over to Eleanor and takes her hand gently.

“For what it’s worth, Sweet Peach,” she says quietly, “you’re not alone.”

Eleanor turns to her and smiles sadly.

“Thank you.”

It’s not much, but it’s enough for now.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fore-warning;  
> This chapter deals with the Second Earthpulse plot point. In addition, it deals with gas-lighting.

It's not long after their escape from Hexen Isle that Magilou requests Eleanor allow her access to her memories of the Earthpulse.

Velvet, at the moment, is resting in one of the cabins and they now have time to themselves. Especially with Magilou’s chance to formally welcome Eleanor into their arrangement.

“Can you really see someone memories with an arte?” Eleanor asks as she sits beside Magilou on the bed.

Magilou nods. “It’s not as difficult as you think. You can tell the difference between one’s vivid imagination and memory, no?”

Eleanor smiles and raises an index finger. “Memories, like fire, are radiant and immutable. Fantasies and the like are not as stable and the construction of their projection usually comes with idiosyncrasies that always bring its objective reality into question.”

Now it’s Magilou’s turn to raise an eyebrow. “Shame on me for doubting you. Anyway, just so we’re clear, you are allowing me access into your memory of the Earthpulse. Nothing more.”

“Nothing more.”

“Excellent,” she says, aware that in another time and another place, she would have been lying through her teeth.

However, Eleanor’s different. She is stubborn, has difficulty empathizing, and is self-centered. However, she is honest with herself, to a fault. She is also sincere about doing good to others. It’s why both she and Velvet came to befriend her, and, slowly, but surely, love her.

 _You’re making a mis-_ **SHUT UP!** She silences the doubts in her head. It had been hounding her for years, every time she had fallen in with someone and that same damn voice always ruined it. She was not going to mess it up this time.

She takes a breath, summons the proper arte projection and soon, she is now witnessing the journey of the Earthpulse.

The first sight she sees already leaves her unsettled.

Velvet wavers hither and yon. Her eyes are glazed over. She’s muttering repeatedly, “Killed… I killed… all of them… all for nothing…”

She breathes a sigh of relief when her eyes come into focus when Laphicet awakens.

It doesn’t last.

“I’m going to kill them!” she declares and before Laphicet can protest about the personage they had seen in Titania, she interrupts, “it’s another illusion!” She pauses and her eyes glaze over again, “but… if it was him, then… he…” her eyes return to focus, but in the most frightening way, “HE BETRAYED ME!”

Magilou’s lips thin into a line when Laphicet’s starting to shiver as Velvet towers over him. “You don’t think I can do it, do you? Why not? You’ve seen me kill before! I can do it again!”

Thankfully, Eleanor intercedes before she does something that would really upset Magilou at this point.

Then, the Earthen Historia appeared.

Magilou was aware of the redundancy of watching a memory within a memory, but she is surprised when Velvet, with her claw, slashes and destroys every memory that appears. More frightening, however, is Velvet’s reaction.   
  
“See?” Velvet growls as she turns on Laphicet, “It was easy! I’ve doing it for years! If I can kill him, I can kill anyone! It gets easier every time!”

Magilou can’t help but figure that it seems rather coincidental that her memory of her life before the Scarlet Night happened right then and there.

“Alright, Laphicet, get us out of here!” Velvet orders, her breathing fast and unstable.

“But,” he tries to protest.

“NOW!” Velvet screams, her teeth bared.

Now Magilou is beginning to get worried. Sure, she kicked the kid when they first met, but he was trying to blow himself up to stop Velvet. However, she has hardly ever raised her voice against him since she, for all intents and purposes, kidnapped him.

“What about Eizen, and the others?” Phi tries to break through as he was on the verge of crying.

Magilou, he, nor Eleanor has a chance to blink as she stomps to him and practically claws the top of his head with her hand as its shape moved inhumanly, trying to contain the Therion’s Claw.

“I SAID NOW!” her grip gets harder and Eleanor can feel Laphicet beginning to panic.

“Velvet, stop! You’re hurting him!” Eleanor shouts as she tears Velvet’s hand off of Laphicet’s head. In response, Velvet grabs her by the collarbone of her uniform, almost ripping it, and drags her face inches from her own.

“Stop? STOP?! They need to be stopped! I’ll kill them. I’LL KILL THEM ALL! And if you try and stop me, Hume, I’ll give you something to really cry about!” Velvet is shaking and her eyes are twitching. Eleanor’s courage vanishes immediately before she strikes Velvet back to her senses... for a moment.

Magilou frowns. While she knew that Velvet was hell-bent on revenge, this was far beyond the purview of her method of operation. Not to mention that hit a bit too close to home. Perhaps it was a good thing the old circus troupe leader was dead. Magilou would have killed him herself at this point.

And with each subsequent memory, Magilou witnesses Velvet’s rapid deterioration.

There is no way this is a coincidence. Innominat, most likely fused with the original Laphicet, was utilizing the vessel, the Earthen Historia, and his own memories to bypass Velvet’s mental defenses.

How frightening to see it almost work.

If Magilou could feel disgust, she would have felt it when she discovered the original Laphicet not only lying about his condition, but not telling Velvet about his desire to become the sacrifice that made Velvet’s quest for revenge pointless.

What a horrible, treacherous, little shit.

And now, he’s a god that wants to render the mortal soul as sterile as the Abbey’s uniforms.

She had to admit, using a Chimera to create a body double to make Velvet believe she was already dead was a stroke of genius, in a sick and twisted kind of way.

Magilou keeps her arms folded as Velvet allows herself to be nearly consumed by Innominat. Her frown deepens when he practically taunts that he’ll eventually consume Laphicet as well. Yet, the kid, in a fit of desperation, holds onto her and breaks her out of her despair, despite nearly being consumed by the Therion’s Claw. It’s hard for Magilou not feel something when he reminds Velvet that she gave him a name when he was just a number. She closes her eyes, feeling some strange moisture caressing her cheeks. How long ago had she felt that? She can’t remember.

Laphicet is a good boy. That much is certain.

Not the one Innominat is now one with. He’s a little shit.

“I loved them,” she hears Velvet struggle to say as tears build up in her eyes as she reaches for Laphicet’s free hand, “I loved them all. Why did it have to come to this? Celica, Arthur, Laphi… Why were they stolen from me?” she takes his smaller hand.

“IT HURT SO MUCH!” she cries into the wind, shattering the portal.

Magilou sees Ceres return. She is the flame that cannot be quenched. She should be proud of Velvet to decide to fight for herself. Instead, she feels a sense of envy. To have someone like that in her life able to bring her back from the abyss. Who did she have in such a case? No one? Oh well. That’s the way things goes, she supposes.

Velvet, renewed, takes the Unquenchable Flame and opens the portal to escape, sending the little shit away from the sheer force of her power.

And that is where they reunited and the memory ends.

Magilou knows that Velvet has changed. That she hasn’t broken. She will never say it out loud, but she’s glad that she lost that bet. Nor will she say that she was actively lusting after Velvet’s reincarnated sister. That would certainly have been awkward.

However, they are far from out of danger as she opens her eyes to see Eleanor looking to the ground in thought, clearly ill at ease.

“It hurt so much,” Eleanor recited, “poor Velvet. She didn’t deserve any of that. I should have listened-”

“Sweet peach,” Magilou crawls over to her and throws her arms around Eleanor’s shoulders, “you believe her now. That’s what she wanted. That’s what she needs now, more than ever. Especially after the stone-lighting that little wretch try to put her through.”

“Stone- what?” she turns to Magilou, confused.

Magilou looks to the shadows of their room and her eyes level. “What better way to attack the mind of an opponent that has been traumatized to the extent Velvet has by making her doubt everything she has seen and done?” There is no smile as she continues. “Remember the illusion in Aball? That was probably part of the whole plan. Make her think twice and question her own experiences and memory with just the right stimuli and words to throw her off balance. Velvet begins to question everything about her own self when she can’t even judge what is real anymore. Naturally, Artorious and Innominat are capable of manipulating those functions with incredible ease. Makes it all the easier to break her down and make her give in to despair.”

Eleanor’s eyes go wide with horror as she realizes how much she had been a part of that. “Then, then I-”

“Sweet peach, calm yourself,” Magilou whispers as she moves back a pace and holds Eleanor’s face with her hands, “you didn’t know. And now you do.” She reaches up and kisses Eleanor on the forehead.

The gesture makes Eleanor smile. “So… what do we do now?”

Magilou holds up an index finger. “For one, we let Velvet rest. It’s good she’s sleeping now, because she needs to recover from this awful replay of her past.”

Eleanor nods.

“In addition, she needs someone capable of helping her properly process this recent string of events. She’s safe for now, but the high of her victory over her past will fade, she needs help before she goes out again.”

“Do we know anyone like that?”

Magilou smiles and nods. “Grimoire.”

Eleanor blinks. “What?”

“You heard right,” Magilou sits against the headboard of the bed, “yours truly had an experience not too different from Velcakes. If it wasn’t for her, I’d probably be dead.”

Now Eleanor was shocked. “What happened?!”

“I’ll tell you about it sometime, but not now. I’m kind of sick to my stomach after what Artorious and Innominat put her through,” she cups her head with her hands and frowns to the small lamp on the other side of the room. “Pah! Typical men, forcing their sins on a woman!”

Eleanor chuckles a bit before she steps off the bed, reaches up and removes the bands holding her hair into pigtails. She takes a breath, as if gathering her courage, and whirls around, “Magilou!”

She blinks in confusion as the exorcist in all but name takes her hand and pulls her to her feet. She is about to ask what is she doing when Eleanor brazenly kisses her.

Each kiss is sloppy. Each kiss is awkward. Eleanor, bless her heart, can’t kiss to save her life. However, it’s one of the most wonderful things that Magilou has ever experienced as she responds with her arms around Eleanor’s waist and pulls her close.

When it’s over, they part, with Eleanor panting loudly, she is blushing furiously, wondering if she even did it right. “Was… was that how it’s done?”

May the Empyreans be blessed for this boinking Magilou is about to receive and may they bless Eleanor for her kindness and her heart. She steps back and removes her Menagerie pants in one smooth motion, then declares, as if she were leading a cavalry charge, “Begin the Debauchery!”


	8. Chapter 8

With Velvet in recovery, new problems arise.

Daemon attacks are becoming more and more frequent and the Bloodwings have asked for their help.

A town in Westgand was completely decimated and the refugees needed protection before they could reach Port Cadnix.

As acting leader, Eizen makes the decision to assist, even though everyone acknowledges that it would have been likely Velvet would have refused.

Magilou, naturally, is against this. After all, considering their merry band of misfits and their level of infamy at this point, being hunted by both the Abbey and the Royal Midgand Military, she would not be surprised if they were walking into another trap.

With two of the legates gone, the Abbey’s sense of control is beginning to unravel.

They’re getting desperate.

And Magilou does not want to know the extent of what they will do to try and stop them.

Nevertheless, she joins them, to ensure Eleanor doesn’t get herself captured by the Inquisitors. Yes, Teresa did keep her word before Velveted ended up devouring her anyway, but all things considered, she did not want to risk it.

To say the mountains that lead to the minds were treacherous was an understatement. Yet, the steady stream of refugees, carrying everything they could salvage, pressed on.

Escorted by a small squad of Bloodwings, Eizen and the rest of Velvet’s group kept watch for more daemons and other possible threats.

Magilou kept telling them that it was going to be a trap, an ambush, a rockslide or all of the above, knowing Eizen’s luck.

Eizen, sadly, did not appreciate the joke.

To her relief, the remainder of civilians were able to reach the mines, which kept the number of possible other catastrophes down. Though, she felt obligated to let everyone know that it expanded to cave ins and earthquakes.

The glares everyone gave her would not stop her from telling the ugly truth!

“Tell your men to guard the back, the rest of us will take the front, since that’s the only avenue of attack the Abbey may possibly have,” Eizen ordered the Bloodwing commander.

“Understood,” he said as he gathered the small force that, by all rights, would barely be able to defend themselves, let alone the refugees.

“Eizen,” Magilou asks with a frown, “are you mad? We may need them for canon fodder if the Abbey does attack! How else are we going to survive?!”

“It’s not the Bloodwings or the refugees I’m worried about,” Eizen growled as he looked ahead further.

“What makes you say that?” she asks, curious, and scared, of the answer.

He held up a short missive from the Van Eltia. “I just got word. A squadron of Armatized Shock Troopers were last seen dispatched from Port Zeckson.”

Magilou’s face paled. “How long ago was this?!”

He turned back to the front, motioning the rest of their group to gather up, “less than a day after we set sail to come here. Which means-”

“Drop your weapons!” a new voice barked from the path to the port.

“It’s a trap!” Magilou screamed and ran behind the rest of their band of malcontents.

The refugees screamed and began to scatter as thirty Exorcists charged at Eizen and their group.

Having faced worse odds, Eizen dashed forward and began to strike anything unfortunate enough to make contact with his fist.

As much as Magilou would have loved to test out how resilient these second generation Armatized Exorcists were, she was not so inclined as they tried to slash, stab, pulverize, crush and smash her to bits. Naturally, for a witch of her caliber, she was more than happy to teach the young upstarts what magic was all about, however, to her surprise, one of the Exorcists had not only blocked one of her elemental attacks, but had sent it right back at her. She still had the presence of mind to dodge it, making it hit another exorcist, but knew that a change of plans was in order.

With a guardian board summoned, she dashed forward, bounced off one and slung it into the Exorcist spellcaster. As expected, Magilou’s foe destroyed the board, which also left a bunch of dust and soot in the air, which gave Magilou the perfect opportunity to attach another glowing guardian spirit to the exorcist’s face and explode.

It was not a pretty sight, but better them than her!

With another wave of her hands, she sent the remaining half dozen foes away with a circle of kinetic force that rendered them all unconscious.

“Hah! That’ll teach you silly simpletons not to mess with the Magnificent Magi-”

“TRAITOR!” she heard a new voice roar from not too far away and already knew what was was going to happen.

She whirled to see Eleanor, after dispatching three more exorcists, pause in shock as if the voice was familiar.

The exorcist in question tore off his helmet, threw away his shield, and with the power of his Armatized state, turned the short sword into a bastard sword, which also emanated a uncomfortably bright glow off the edge.

She was close enough to hear Eleanor gasp, “Marcus?! No!”

The young man with short black hair, relatively thick build, and complexion not too far off from Eleanor’s twisted his face in rage and charged with a speed that Magilou doubted Eleanor would be able to fend off. She would have gone to help had another exorcist with hovering steel fists tried to knock her off her feet and she had no choice but to fight her own battles off before she cold help Eleanor.

“How dare you, Eleanor!” he roared as he swung his sword hard enough to literally cut the air, leaving an energy trail that Magilou couldn’t help but be impressed by.

“Marcus, please! You have to listen to me!” Eleanor cried back as she deflected his attacks as best she could, since trying to block her opponent’s attacks would be less than wise. “This is wrong! What we were doing is wrong! Everything is wrong!”

“No!” Marcus barked back and rammed his shoulder into her, using his weight to knock her back.

“Marcus! We were lied to! They’ve been using us!” Eleanor desperately tried to keep her balance, but Marcus’ attacks were gaining speed and coming closer and closer to hitting her.

“I’m not going to listen to you anymore!” he spat before Eleanor finally blocked another wild swing, but found it a poor choice as his weight gave him more leverage to press the edge of his blade further and further into the staff of her lance. She tried to escape the stalemate, but a loose set of rocks dislodged her foot’s grip on the floor and she tumbled backwards against the wall.

Magilou, tired of dealing with her own problems, cast a paralysis arte, which wouldn’t last long, given the resistances the Armatus was developing, and tossed her assailant into the last group of standing exorcists before dashing to Eleanor’s aid.

Marcus had raised his sword to cut Eleanor down before the latter heard Magilou scream, “get down!”

She dropped to the ground in time before Magilou slammed her palms against his back, activating a powerful kinetic arte, and sent him crashing into the rock and creating a very noticeable indent in the rock with his body. His grip on the sword fell limp and when Magilou started seeing red on the sides of his head starting to drip down, she knew she was victorious. A moment later, his Amratus overheat and, like the others from before, left his body nothing but crystallized dust.

However, she looked down to Eleanor, trying her best to keep a fresh set of tears in and failing, started to sniff and wipe away the dirt on her face.

She reached down and pulled the errant exorcist to her feet.

She couldn’t look at Marcus’ remains anymore, she couldn’t look at Magilou. She couldn’t look at anything as she walked back to Eizen and the gathering refugees, despite the gashes on her arms and legs.

Magilou never felt worse.

She could already make guesses as to who Marcus is… was.

*

As the last of the refugees were getting settled into another ship that would take them to Talisein, Magilou found Eleanor by herself, standing on the edge of the pier.

She padded up beside Eleanor, saying nothing. She wanted to say much, but had the presence of mind to know how easily it could go bad.

"The second time a battle has left you pensive, Sweet Peach," Magilou probes gently as she kneels down, picks up a pebble and lobs it into the ocean. 

Eleanor smiles ruefully. "It's a habit I need to learn how to break."

Magilou shrugs. "Well, at least you know.  You're a responsible adult, after all."

Eleanor laughs bitterly. "Responsible. Isn't that just another turn of phrase for 'the one at fault'?" She shakes her head. "How strange.  I'm no longer an official exorcist of the Abbey, yet, my shoulders feel so weighed down."

Magilou reaches over and encircles her shoulders with her arm and then leans into her head. "You don't need to carry that weight alone, you know," she gives Eleanor a smirk, "many hands, light load? Or better yet, my hands on your 'load'?" She grins even more mischievously to emphasize the point. 

Eleanor chuckles lightly and blushes. "Kindly keep those hands elsewhere, Miss Mayven. I would hate to have to do them harm for public impropriety before private impropriety."

She shrugs, "alas, alack, and aww." She lets go and watches the sun in the distance setting. "Better?"

Eleanor nods. "A bit.  Thank you."

She nods and holds her hands behind her back, waiting for the explanation of her former comrade. Thankfully. she doesn't have to wait long. 

“Marcus,” Eleanor began with great difficulty, “Marcus and I were the only survivors of our village. We were friends growing up. It was his family that helped maintain the stone, Eleanor, and mine that helped protect it.”

Magilou folded her arms. “A normal person would have apologized. However, he was but a second away from killing you.”

“I know,” she whispered back before brushing her bangs out of her eyes as the wind continued to whip them every which way.

“Regardless, it’s a tragedy when you lose people you know, isn’t it?” Magilou tries to console her, still unsure if her choice of words was appropriate.

Eleanor nodded. “Both of us were taken in by the Abbey when we were both orphaned. He took his own family’s death really hard. I don’t know if he ever got over it, because we'd both been assigned to different units not long after we enlisted.”

Magilou closed her eyes. “Some people don’t.”

Eleanor took in another deep breath. “I don’t know if I ever did either. You saw what happened to me at Haria?”

She looked to Eleanor a moment before turning back to the ocean. “I believe, the difference here is; you seem to have actually faced it. And lucky for you, you had us to help you overcome it. Put it behind you. It will still haunt you from time to time and that’s normal. But it fades.”

Eleanor turned to her, tears in her eyes. “Then… it’s… it’s ok if I get a chance to properly mourn?”

She nodded with a small, sad smile. “It’s like a venom that you need to evacuate. Even when the poison is gone, your body still needs time to recover. It’s what you’re doing. It’s what Velvet’s doing.”

Eleanor smiled sadly. “And you?”

Magilou gives a forced grin and a flourish. “Whatever do you mean, Sweet Peach? I’m perfectly fine!”

Her countenance begins to falter.

“And by perfectly fine, I mean I’m not.”

_What are you doing?!_

**What I should have done a long time ago.**

_DON’T!_

“You never really told us much about your past,” Eleanor asked.

_YOU ARE EXPOSING-_

**I know. If it’s going to happen, then it’ll happen. And I’ll have none to blame but myself.**

_THEY’LL ABANDON-_

**If they do, then, they will. Life goes on. But, if they don’t… then maybe…**

She shook her head, all pretense of the performer gone. “What’s there to say? It’s one of my defense mechanisms that’s kept me alive. I’d rather not go back, because all there is just reminds me of what I despise every time I look into a mirror,” she closed her eyes as Eleanor gasped at that statement, “every time, I see a bitter, overused, and disgusting homonculus of regret and spite that nobody wants. I mean, it’s gotten to the point that I’ve come to expect whether we die or emerge victorious, we will all go our separate ways. And then I’ll be alone again. Like always.”

Now it was Magilou’s turn to feel despondent as she held herself close. She has never admitted this, nor felt so vulnerable.

_She’s going to see you for what you really are, you know._

**I’m aware.**

_What if she’s revolted and disgusted by what she sees?_

**What if she’s not? Then, hiding it won’t help. I won't do this any more.**

To her surprise, Eleanor puts her hand gently on her shoulder. She turns just in time to feel Eleanor placing her lips on Magilou’s own and kissing her. Twice.

It’s still sloppy, but she’s getting better. She kisses her back and even shifts the bangs in front of her face aside. 

When they part, Eleanor smiles that warm, wonderful smile that makes her forget that Magilou Mayven is a disgusting facsimile of a human being.

“It doesn’t have to be that way,” Eleanor offers gently.

“Are you sure?” Magilou’s fighting her own tears at this point and her voice begins to crack, “I’m a broken shell that if you ask if she’s alright, she’s not alright even if she says she is.”

Eleanor embraces her and kisses her cheek, which had an escaped tear at just the right spot for her to kiss it away.

In the crook of Magilou’s neck, Eleanor whispers, “I’m sure. When you're ready to tell me, I'll listen.”

For the first time in years, Magilou sniffs and hugs someone back. For the first time in years, she feels something inside of her that’s not the empty void of self-loathing and bitterness. For the first time in years, she feels warmth. She feels like she is starting to belong somewhere.

“You know, Eleanor,” Magilou struggles to talk, “despite all the bad things that have happened, I dare say it’s not as bad as it used to be.” She leans forward against Eleanor’s forehead and whispers, “someday, I hope I’ll be able to feel for myself the way I feel for you and Velvet.”

It takes everything she has not to break down at the simply radiant smile Eleanor gives. “I can wait for that.”

Magilou smiles with her. The task will be beyond daunting. She may not succeed at all. Regardless, she will do it anyway. And dammit, she will do it until she succeeds! 

The voice of her doubts, for the first time, is silent.


	9. Chapter 9

It takes a while, but when Grimoire finally deems Velvet functional enough to be discharged from her services, the normin gives Magilou a look.

“Expect a hefty bill for my expertise,” she says. 

Magilou flinches and holds her chest in pain as she feels her savings vanishing from her purse. 

Yet, seeing Velvet up on her feet again, and more emotionally stable, makes herself, Eleanor, and Laphicet happy as the latter two embrace her. 

“While I understand the urgency for Velvet to continue, I would like to keep traveling with you to observe and, if necessary, be there to assist Velvet if she experiences any relapses,” Grimoire notes as she hops up to sit on Roukurou’s shoulder. 

“I cannot thank you enough,” Eleanor announces happily. 

“Yes, master,” Laphicet chirps, “Thank you!”

Magilou pouts, letting her gaze waver from between Velvet and Grimoire. “…thanks,” yet, her eyes level in irritation, “this is going to cost me, isn’t it?”

“And how,” Grimoire answers casually, which makes Magilou flinch and hold her chest again! That was supposed to be her vacation fund, dammit!

“Thanks, Magilou,” Velvet says calmly with a small and grateful smile. Her eyes now have a light in them that makes Magilou want to swoon and fall into Velvet’s strong and muscular arms. In fact, modesty be damned! It was worth it! She sighs dramatically, twirls and hurls herself into Velvet’s grip. 

“Oh, Velcakes! Take me! Take me slow, hard, and mercilessly! And bring Eleanor too!”

Eizen preemptively covers a confused Laphicet’s ears and Eleanor gives Magilou a disapproving look. She wanted first dibs on Velvet, after all. 

Velvet, tempted as she is to just drop her onto the ground, smiles a bit, “so you’re glad to see me and that’s not just your gald in your pocket?”

Now it’s Magilou’s turn to be shocked!

“Velcakes! How lewd! That’s my schtick!”

Still, she throws her arms around Velvet’s neck and kisses her repeatedly. 

The fact that Velvet does not drop her is very telling and Magilou is grateful for it. 

Not that she would say it out loud, of course. 

*

If there is one thing that Magilou likes more than money, and her girlfriends, is acting. Especially when it’s over the top. 

“I AM CORRUPTION MADE FLESH!” Velvet roars to the people of Meirchio as she brandishes her Therion’s Claw for all to see, “THE LORD OF CALAMITY AWAITS ANY AND ALL WHO DEFY HER TO FEAST UPON THEIR SOULS! LET THE FOOL LEGATES COME, FOR THEY SHALL BE CONSUMED IN THE MAW OF DEATH!”

Predictably, the citizenry turns and runs for their lives after saving them from the guard who had succumbed to malevolence. 

Magilou, after conjuring a pair of devil horns on her head, devil wings on her back, and a cute, little devil tail on her back, raises her hands high and laughs maniacally. 

“HA HA HA! Run, puny, mortal fools! Run to the south and shed your worthless tears before our Dark Mistress consumes you down to the marrow in your bones to grant her even greater power! BWA HA HA HA HA HA!”

The rest of their cadre of mismatched misfits look on in worry.

Eleanor turns to Magilou. “You’re a bad influence on her.”

The latter is shocked. “I haven’t the faintest idea of which you speak? Velcakes is a natural performer! The Lord of Calamity knows how to captivate an audience!” Eleanor is not so convinced. 

The town is soon rendered vacated and Velvet steps down from the stairs. 

“Velvet, darling, that was simply delightful! We should do that again, sometime! How does Loegres sound?” Magilou offers quickly. 

“I’ll think about it,” she responds looking away before slapping Magilou on the back of her head.

“Ow! What was that for?!”

Velvet answers with leveled eyes. “We do not consume marrow. I was taught proper table manners.”

Magilou huffs and folds her arms. “A shame. That’s the best part.”

Soon enough, Benwick and the rest of Eizen’s crew set up shop and claim the town as their own for the time being, including the Therions under their protection. While Velvet and Eleanor discuss the finer points of compliments to one’s mortal enemies while practically stealing the livelihood of the town’s former citizenry to protect them from the upcoming conflict, Magilou is occupied with her own dilemma. 

“Goodness me!” Magilou says as she wiggles her hands eagerly, keeping an eye out for soon-to-be-misplaced valuables and loose change, “it all looks so good, I don’t know where to start!”

“I’m not really going to charge you, you know,” Grimoire’s voice breaks her from her revelry. 

“Of course you weren’t!” Magilou smiles, while silently cheering inside, “I mean, really, what’s money to a normin?”

“No, the fact that I could buy and sell everything you’ve owned twelve times over just shows just how little I need it.”

“Touche,” Magilou begrudgingly admits. 

“No, I supposed it’s because I see something in Velvet what I saw in you all those years ago. And somehow, you’ve become more than the angry, scarred little girl I helped nurse back to health, even after serving a prison sentence,” Grimoire notes while taking a look at Velvet, conversing with Laphicet, Medissa, and Kamoana. 

“Hah!” Magilou gestures to the south, “you think a measly prison is enough to break me?! The old fool who ran the circus tried it, the old fool tried to break it, the other prisoners tried to break it. The whole world has tried it, but they will never break the magnanimous, magnificent, mighty Magilou!”

Grimoire’s look told her she was not so convinced. “Are you sure?”

Resigned, Magilou sighed and slumped over. “Ok, ok. You’re right. I’ve been broken plenty of times. Every time I let myself get my hopes up, something has happened that just hurts me. And it breaks me. And so, I put myself back together because it’s all I can do.”

“Hmm,” Grimoire turns to look at Eleanor joining the conversation with Velvet, “It is good you have found those who can understand what you go through.”

“Truth be told,” Magilou admits, “I’m scared to death,” she sits and watches Velvet and Eleanor with a smile, “For the first time, I feel I can let my guard down. However, that still has me worried that something will happen. No, I know something will happen. So, I’m trying to steel myself for when it does.”

“There is no fault in being cautious.”

“Am I just being paranoid?”

“Hardly. Yours has been a difficult and lonely road. The prospect of finally throwing your lot in with people whom you begin to truly care about is a frightening experience when you’ve been alone for as long as you have.”

“Good,” Magilou cracks a grin, “then I’m not as crazy as I thought.”

“No more than anyone else, I imagine.”

She looks over to see Eleanor gently take Velvet’s bandaged hand and smiles. “They’re wonderful. They’re flawed, and in some cases terrible, human beings. But despite all that, I still care for them," she says before looking down a moment, "and they care for me... it's so hard to believe that at times." She takes a breath. "And I pray, if I have anything to pray to, that life is kind to us. It won’t be, but we have to try, don’t we?”

Grimoire nods. “As well you should.”

“How is Velvet doing, by the way?”

“Better. Our initial sessions were… difficult, which is putting it mildly.”

“How much property was broken?”

“Ten grand gald’s worth.”

“That bad, huh?”

“Velvet has some issues she is working through,” Grimoire understated. 

“Aren’t we all?” she asks no one in particular, “if it’s not her bastard brother in law, it’s her even more awful little brother. I felt dirty seeing that sojourn through the Earthpulse.”

“All of them do. It opened wounds specifically meant to hurt Velvet.”

Magilou’s lips thin out to into a single line. When she gets her hands on that little shit, he’s going to regret ever lying to Velvet. 

“I wonder,” she mutters aloud, “just how far ahead did the old fool plan that?”

“Knowing Melchior, he is capable of predicting and manipulating events on a scale that even I have trouble judging,” Grimoire shrugs. 

Magilou takes a breath and closes her eyes. Inside, she puts all the events she can recall being privy to, the events she has not witnessed, and the events that may or will happen. 

Innominat’s pit, the Crowe family, Arthur into Artorious, the Therions. What was the connecting thread? Melchior was good at connecting things that just seemed far too coincidental. Worse, he was capable of misleading people like herself when trying to read his mind. 

“Ultimate goal was to revive Innominat fully,” she whispered to herself, “so, in order to do that, he didn’t even need the Therions. He needed the Eight Arch Sins. Innominat wanted Velvet’s despair, but that’s not something that just comes…” she stops and then her eyes widens. They then narrow and a frown crosses her face. “That twisted son of a bitch witch…”

A shiver runs up Magilou’s spine as she feels a teleportation arte deactivate. She stands up and looks to the upper levels of the town, near the eastern exit. “Well, well, peak of the old devil.”

“Be careful. There is a good chance he already knows what you intend to do.”

Magilou grips her hands to hold back the anger. “I will.”

She is on her way through the thoroughfare of the town when Velvet and Eleanor invite her to the inn and enjoy the hotsprings inside. She winces when she realizes she is going to miss on some good bonding time with them but the old man will only wait for so long. 

“Oh, dearlings, I would simply love to! But I have an errand or two to complete first. Keep the waters hot for me, ok? Thank you! Mwah!” and so, she prances off, leaving them both a bit worried and suspicious. However, they trust in her judgment, which Magilou still has a hard time believing, and return to their own business. 

*

“Hmph,” Magilou grumbles as she approaches Melchior from behind, “and here I thought you were more discreet than this. At least you got our message.”

The old man turns to her and frowns. “You never could appreciate nuance, child.”

Magilou snorts in derision. “Says the man who wishes to scour the human soul into some twisted empty shell! I never could understand how you came to the conclusion that you had the right to help bring humanity to the grave with such dangerous thinking.”

Melchior stroked his beard and narrowed his eyes. “It is how humanity has survived through every purge with Innominat’s revival.”

“At what cost though?” she shoots back, “you know what the most frightening thing about Innominat is? He has wiped out several dozens civilizations that could have easily solved the daemonblight by now. But no! It’s men like you and your twisted ideals that seek for some hideous utopia that causes this!”

“Again, child, you fail to comprehend. And you would unleash the Empyreans upon the world? Madness.”

Now Magilou smiles. A wicked and twisted smile she has waited far to long to show him. “Oh yes, master. We will summon them. We will awaken them. Innominat’s influence will wane. The Malakhim will regain their free will. The Abbey will falter. Order will collapse. The seas will boil, the wind will howl, the earth will tremble, and fire will toil! It will be chaos! Centuries of pure, glorious chaos!”

“And you will consign humanity to its likely extinction,” he answers as calmly as he can. 

She shrugs. “Are you so certain? Humanity has survived worse. But yet, you don’t seem to get that Humanity does not survive when there is nothing in their core. Innominat’s influence will see to that!”

“I see to save humanity! And the expulsion of our sins and malevolence is the only way to do it! All to achieve our ideal world of purity built upon righteous ideals!”

Magilou smirks. “You have truly gone mad, old man. Your utopia, your endeavors, your ‘ideals’ are twisted. I saw what happened at Port Zekson and Loegres. I saw men, women, and children robbed of their free will, reduced to automations removed of everything that made them unique, what made them distinct, what made them alive!”

“You fail once again, chi-”

“NO!” Magilou roars, her patience evaporated, “ever since you took me as your protege in order to mold me into some kind of strange shadow of yourself, I had done nothing but listen to you bluster and bleat nonstop! Now, you listen to me!”

Melchoir was taken aback back her outburst. 

“Your ideals to create a world without sin have always been wrong. You expect me to believe a whole person can just be completely good or evil? You twisted old fruit! Was it the same as that equally delusional fool, Artorious?! When he lost his wife and unborn child, he lost faith in everything because he experienced loss?! I can think of nothing more hypocritical and self-serving than seeing you, abandoning hope in the face of loss to try to make everyone just as miserable as yourself!”

Like a thief caught in the light, Melchior flinched. 

“I knew it,” Magilou growled, the disgust in her voice evident, “how selfish. How revolting. And you would stop the natural order of things to create a fake flower arrangement that will never wilt and never die, but only be good to show. But know this, master. The only thing worse than those ideals you strive for are those who willingly sacrifice what makes them human and enter into some shackled existence of comfort. I defy it! I defy the ideals you espouse! And I will defy you, Artorious, and Innominat until my dying breath, living as the evil to your perverted notion of good!”

“It may well come to that,” he warns with narrowed eyes. 

Magilou is prepared to summon a guardian to her side when Roukuro and Eizen appear at her side. 

“Good timing, Gentleman,” she says with a smile, “Roukurou, might I borrow one of your blades?”

Confused, but not all that bothered, he took one of his daggers out and handed it to her. "Thank you, dear."

Melchior was confused at her behavior. She was never one for sharp objects. 

She twirled the blade in her hand and began to approach him. With a snap of his fingers, an ice lance pierced her stomach, only for Magilou to vanish in a puff of smoke and fireworks. 

He then waved his hand to the right and eliminated another copy of Magilou that dissolved into snow. 

He twirled behind him and slashed another copy with the wind. 

“You really think to befuddle me with parlour tricks, child?”

“Hardly,” the real Magilou answers as she appears as if she was always there and holds the edge of the blade against his neck, under his beard, he is still and she smiles wickedly. 

“Have no fear, master. I’m not going to kill you, yet,” she whispers, “I just want to let you know where I stand on another particular issue.”

“Pointless posturing on a superfluous matter,” he grumbled before Magilou edged her face inches from his. 

“You hurt Velvet,” she hisses, “you needed Despair for Innominat. But unlike the other Arch Sins, Despair needed to be cultivated. How fortuitous that the reincarnation of your dead god had a family member, cursed as a Therion no less, that was determined to allegedly avenge him, knowing that the vessel was already a willing sacrifice. So, you used everything and everyone to bring us all to this point.”

She began to circle him. “The hunt for the Therions, especially Draconius and Lineres as unknowing sacrifices. You knew Velvet devouring them would weigh heavily on her. Then, you went back to what she wanted the most; the life that you stole from her. The Illusion of Aball. Complete with Little Brother Laphicet to sweeten the deal. You knew she would break out of the illusion, unlike me; your greatest disappointment. Yet, it would damage her psyche again.” 

Magilou’s frown deepened, “And, the grand reveal of Innominat himself, in the form of the brother she loved so dearly, to leave her vulnerable to the most nightmarish truth capable of shaking her very core; that her entire quest for revenge, all that she had killed and destroyed, was all for nothing. The Earthen Historia was merely icing on the proverbial cake.”

Melchior chuckled. “So, you are capable of putting simple scenarios together, a miracle considering-” Magilou forced the blade up against his skin. 

“You hurt her,” Magilou repeated, more calm than the time before, “Believe me, old man. Nothing would give me greater pleasure than to kill you here and now with my own hands for harming her.”

Melchior cocked an eyebrow. “Ah, so you’ve done more than merely throw in your lot with her? A pity. It always seemed to be one of your greatest failings.”

Magilou only smiled and pulled the blade back from him. “Perhaps. Though, considering she was able to do what I could not makes it rather compelling to join her. And yes, master, I have done more than ‘throwing my lot in with her’. That's right, I’ve had earthshattering sex the likes of which you can’t even dream of with her!”

The announcement caught all three men off guard. 

Magilou then proudly prances back to Roukurou and hands him his dagger. “Now, with that said, there’s no need for bloodshed yet,” she looks directly into his eye and smiles, “your life belongs to the Lord of Calamity, after all.”

“Hmph, it will save me the trouble of picking you off one by one. Come then! I will show you the errors of your ways at the peak,” he turns and, just like before, he pauses to avoid stepping on a flower that somehow is able to survive in the frigid temperature. 

Magilou frowns and shakes her head. “Deluded, foolish old man.”

She shrugs and then hurries back. There are ladies waiting in a bath for her! She is NOT going to miss this!


	10. Chapter 10

The battle against Shigure goes as well as expected. 

Which is to say, badly. 

Outnumbered, six to one, Shigure still is somehow able to handle each and every one of them as easily as though they were all inexperienced beginners. 

Worse yet, it seems that the master swordsman barely breaks a sweat when all six of them push themselves to the limit to somehow bypass his defenses. 

More insultingly, is how Magilou feels he’s simply toying with them as he seems to refuse to use his sword to cut them all down where they stand. 

Yet, it takes Rokurou, facing him one on one to finally push him off balance. Their journeys together had expanded his skill and allowed him the chance to develop new techniques that had taken Shigure off guard. 

Finally, when Shigure and Rokorou are able to disarm each other, it takes the sword Kurogane has forged himself into to finally fell him. 

Few words are exchanged between the brothers. It doesn’t seem to bother either of them, as if they’ve already made their peace with whatever outcome that would happen. 

Well, whatever the case may be, it’s no concern of theirs anymore. Besides, Velvet’s got a Legate to snack on. 

Once Rokurou gives Velvet the go ahead, she devours him as if she were casually removing a scrap of paper from the ground. 

Is it distasteful? Of course. Yet, necessary. 

Predictably, Eleanor is unsettled. Yet, she says nothing. 

“Sweet Peach,” Magilou mutters to her over the din of the volcano, “don’t overthink what has happened here too much. It’s their lives and if they desire to toss it away in some contest to see who’s the strongest, that’s their problem, not yours. Besides, I don’t think they much care what others think of it anyway.”

Eleanor turns her eye from Magilou to the empty space where Shigure’s body once lay. She sighs quietly. 

“It’s… it’s still hard for me to digest,” she answers, “they’re family. Why would they want to murder each other like that?”

“Nuance, Sweet Peach,” Magilou reminds her, “Rokurou has had several other brothers that are dead and probably under similar circumstances. But it doesn’t seem to bother him all that much. Even though it’s far more complex than you and I see it.”

Eleanor looks to the floor. “You’re right.”

Magilou smirks. “A rare occasion, I’m sure, but anyway, I think our supreme swordsman will somehow be able to live with it.”

Surely enough, Rokurou is back to his normal, laid back self, much to Eleanor’s surprise, but thankfully, she takes Magilou’s advice and doesn’t pay it much heed. It’s done and they have bigger problems ahead. 

*

Naturally, Magilou predicts that Melchior has set traps and strategies that confound and nearly destroys them all. 

That is, until when after a distraction with magical clones gives Magilou the chance she needs when Velvet charges. 

With a snap of her fingers, she creates a patch of Magnolia flowers under his foot. 

Naturally his affinity for the flowers throws him off balance, giving Velvet the death grip on him he desires. 

He glares at her as he feels his lifeforce fading, betrayed by the emotion he once thought tossed aside. 

She smirks back and shrugs. “Irony is a bitch and so am I.”

With all four souls of the Legates in her possession, Velvet then plummets to the lava flow below the cliff they fought Melchior on. 

“Rise and Shine, Empyreans!” Magilou announces more to Velvet than them. 

Getting the message, and drawing the powerful souls she has consumed, she roars, “EMPYREANS! THE LORD OF CALAMITY SUMMONS YOU! SO WAKE THE HELL UP!”

In a geyser of mutlicolored light, all four of the sleeping gods of nature awaken and, as predicted, Innominat’s power wanes. 

The enslaved Malakhim are free, the order the Abbey enforces begins to crumble, and only a unearthly vessel from the Empyreans’ Throne appearing high in the sky is the only domain Artorious has left. 

Magilou, on the other hand, feels light as air. As her companions head down the mountain, she snaps her fingers again, causing the magnolia that caused her master’s death to vanish as if they never were there. 

It was strange. While she does feel a certain catharsis with his demise, she can’t help but feel something more. 

Freedom, maybe?

She was the true Mayvin now. 

The thought makes her grin grow larger. 

Not to mention she now has access to all his old notes and artes that she could make a killing off of if she could find them. 

Alas, that is a shenanigan for another time. 

She prances up behind Velvet, throws her arms over her lover’s shoulders and squeal, “Velcakes, you were marvelous! Simply sensational! Very vivacious!”

Velvet rolls her eyes. “I get it. Feel better?”

“And how! This is all that I’ve wanted since that old fool disowned me. Now, I am the most Mayven of all!” Magilou announces when she lets go and starts bouncing and leaping everywhere in sight. 

Velvet begins to smile. “Is there really a measurement to how ‘Mayvin’ one can be?”

“OF course there is!” Magilou stops with her Magickazam pose, “Am I Magilou Mayven?”

“Far as I know, you are,” Velvet answered confused. 

“There we go!” she responds before taking Velvet by the arm and dragging her to join the others. 

*

For the first time, they all feel like they have a chance to breathe, even with Innominat temporarily on the defensive.

Naturally, with this time to use as they saw fit, it was time to celebrate, as small as it was compared when they considered what they had all accomplished. 

In Meirchio, the crew of the Van Alta assists in the preparation and the serving of the victory feast. 

To Magilou’s delight, she finally is able to taste the Velvet’s Quiche, Eleanor’s stew, and the peach pie and pudding!

While Magilou considers herself more of an alchemist than a cook, she’s certainly not above helping making a few of the sauces needed. After all, what fool uses warm water in the crust of a pie?!

And to her good fortune, Benwick was able to provide the Calegian-style borscht!

“Benwick, I could kiss you! But I won’t, so, I’ll kiss Velvet and Eleanor instead!” 

Benwick is not so amused. 

As food is prepared, served, and consumed, Magilou sneaks a peek to her right, where Velvet and Eleanor are sitting next to each other and speaking with smiles on both of their faces. She allows herself a small smile of her own. When both of them look to her and give her grins, she huffs jokingly and looks away. 

It’s then that it hits her.

Velvet is smiling! Velvet is happy!

So, why does Magilou’s heart feel so heavy?

She picks at the crumbs of her plate that had a piece of peach pie and ice cream on it a moment ago as her gaze goes from there to the aforementioned duo. 

She doesn’t understand. Velvet is happy. Or at least she appears happy. She’s smiling. She’s laughing with an equally light spirited Eleanor. 

Maybe it’s just the high of victory. That’s got to be it. 

“Hey,” Velvet snaps her back to reality as she takes a seat besides Magilou. 

“Hey yourself,” she answers as Eleanor sits on her other side. 

“I think Bienfu’s eaten himself sick, but do Nomin react the same way we do?” Eleanor asks. 

Magilou shrugs. “Beats me. The little guy just eats himself into a coma and then passes out for the next few days.”

Velvet chuckles before asking. “You alright?” 

Magilou blinks in surprise at the question. Then smiles back a bit. “I think so? Maybe just pensive for once.”

Eleanor leans into her fondly. “That would certainly be a change of pace.”

“What about?” Velvet asks, concern starting to creep into her features. 

Magilou considers the roar of the crowd as they’re celebrating, they’re loud enough that she can discuss this in the open without too many prying ears. 

“Well,” she tries to begin, “You’ll certainly never let me hear the end of it once I tell you, however, it’s a price I’m willing to pay.” She pushes her plate forward a bit. “My youth wasn’t much to talk about, because I didn’t have one. I was lucky, but then, like always, my luck goes bad and then I have to start over. My family, the other orphans I associated with, the Old Man. It’s gotten so tiresome at this point, wondering when it’s going to happen again and I’ll have to go elsewhere and start over… and the worst part is…”

Eleanor placed a hand on her back as she and Velvet listened intently. 

“I feel…” Magilou begins to force out, “for the first time… I… I actually belong somewhere. This group of misfits and malcontents is the closest thing to a home I’ve had. And that’s what scares me.”

“Once it’s over, we’ll part ways, is that it?” Velvet asks bluntly. 

Magilou nods and turns to Velvet with clear sadness in her eyes. “Velcakes, you’re a violent, vile, and voracious villain of a woman,” she turns to Eleanor, “Sweet Peach, you’re a delusional, denying, easily distracted dandy of an exorcist.”

She looks forward and closes her eyes and lets the tears held in for decades begin to flow. “And you’re the only two I would entrust you with anything. I trust you both. I believe in you, both. And… and I…” she struggles to get the next phrase out. 

If she felt exposed before, she is downright terrified now. A single wrong word, if she already hasn’t said it, will ruin her. 

To her surprise, both Eleanor and Velvet encase her in their arms. Eleanor has her head on Magilou’s shoulder, while Velvet leans against her temple.

“We know,” Velvet answers before she kisses Magilou on the cheek. 

“And we feel the same of you too,” Eleanor answers as she takes Magilou’s left hand with one of her own to squeeze it gently. “We trust and believe in you.”

“Even if it may be against our best judgment,” Velvet notes with a smirk. 

Magilou sniffs then chuckles as Velvet takes her other hand. “There may be hope for you two yet,” her smile fades, “But going back to the scared part; the fact that I’m actually… content, which I’d normally take severe umbrage and denying even saying it, makes me realize just how tenuous our arrangement can be.”

Eleanor and Velvet look to each other, aware of the less than pleasant implications of failure, or even success. 

“But I don’t want it to be,” she lets herself slump into them both, “I want to be with you both. You’ve become so important to me that it’s made me feel vulnerable and paranoid.”

It was easy to see where she came from. 

Their small part of the room was, thankfully, not noticed amid the grand revelry and when Magilou looked up to see Laphicet, who was a good boy, speaking with Eizen with a copy of an atlas he had brought. She couldn’t help but smile a bit. And then side eye when all of Eizen’s talk about steering ships, along with pigswiggling, and keelhauling, and all those damn shanties the Van Alta’s crew kept singing over and over came to mind. 

Magilou didn’t give a damn what they did when one of their crew members got sloshed the night before! Why would they sing about that?!

She closed her eyes and forced her train of thought to get back on track. 

“I guess the only thing we can do is keep going. Hope for the best, prepare for the worst when the bomb drops,” she then leans up and kisses both Eleanor and Velvet on the cheeks. Their moods brighten and both of them embrace her. 

Magilou only hopes that when it does fall apart, she’s got the fortitude to be able to pull herself back together. If it does. 

For now, this is good. And she’s going to stick with it.


	11. Chapter 11

The ill feeling in Magilou’s stomach was more accurate than she dared admit. In fact, she had hoped it would be wrong.

When the vessel where Artorious and Innominat await made it presence clear to the world, more people began to fear. Thankfully, not to a level of panic that would have made things difficult for them to get there.

Of course, they had to forget that some Malakhim were still eager to fight for the Empyrean and Artorious.

Eizen, of course, had no qualms with beating his fellows to a pulp in a fit of perfect mayhem.

Then, there was the Domain itself.

Suspended high above the world, made Magilou dizzy every now and then. She preferred to stay with her feet on the ground, thank you very much. Even if she was compelled to summon the Immortal Normin to beat her foes to a pulp, she was always able to fly via her own power, not from some ancient, soul sucking godling with Velvet’s bastard brother-in-law that summoned a fortress that couldn’t be sieged or invaded under normal means.

So, to Magilou’s greater consternation, they encountered Artorious and Innominat with even more empty, boring platitudes that Melchior would have been proud of.

Naturally, Velvet and the rest of them were not going to simply stand idly by while they would level yet another civilization in the game of ‘reason’. Magilou herself knew that she wouldn’t be able to smack the little shit around the way Laphicet did, but it sure was nice to see and hope for a chance herself.

Of course, and Magilou would blame Eizen’s curse after the fact, that when they emerged victorious, Artorious had the sheer, unmitigated gall to unleash the worst possible secret.

He offered his own despair, which was evidently greater than anything else, for the little shit to feed off of.

Which then completed a god-like armatus that put all the others to shame. And to her dismay, not overheat and dissolve like the others, as this one seem perfected.

Yet, they carried on. It was more than just some juvenile platitude about fighting for ideals or justice or whatever, it was desperately snatching the future away from a foolish, madman that had lost faith in everyone else, because he was an even bigger fool. Frankly, Magilou did not, and would not, care about the pain that he suffered, because if he was going to use his dead wife and son as an excuse to be this much of an idiot, then he had lost all right to sympathy.

At least her companions were honest about their less than wholesome qualities.

And one should never let Magilou get started on their oral hygiene habits!

The might of a god pounded them to the ground, but with strength of their own desire to live and to move on, they stood up once more. And it would repeat again and again.

Magilou was a mess as she wiped a face full of sweat, blood, and dirt off of her face when she saw Velvet finally deliver the killing blow!

“YES!” she announced loudly when Velvet’s form, after snatching Artorious’ sword, landed on him with the blade piercing him through the heart.

She couldn’t hear, but Magilou was certain he was going on, again, about how horrible his life was as he lay dying.

If she had the inclination and the strength, she would have marched over there and kicked him in his self-pitying face!

Too bad that little shit had to start wailing about being hungry as the ground shook around them all. The domain was apparently beginning to destabilize. His connection to the vessel must have been deeper than they all thought.

She frowned and summoned a guardian, injecting as much explosive fire magic into it. If he was going to whine about his hunger, well, she had something that would really give him indigestion! Consequences be damned, she was going to end this here and now herself!

However, to the surprise and shock of herself and everyone there, Velvet, walked over to him, seemingly unaffected by the chaos. She turned to them all, as if getting a last look.

For an instant, Velvet’s eyes, with that beautiful and immutable light she loved so much, shone through the storm. She smiled and Magilou’s eyes widened with horror.

“…no,” she whispered and struggled to get to her feet.

When she saw Innominat reach up and bite into Velvet’s collarbone, Magilou’s heart began to race harder and faster.

“No!” she cried when the Therion’s Claw appeared and bit into the little shit’s back.

“Velvet!” Eleanor shouted as she too struggled to her feet, “what are you doing?!”

“The only thing I can do!” she shouted back, “I will be back. I promise!”

“NO!” Magilou shouted even louder as she stumbled with her lack of strength to vainly try and tear them apart. However, when she saw a sphere of golden light appear and encase them both, tears began to flood her eyes, if she could still hear her, Magilou shouted, “YOU BETTER BE BACK, VELVET CROWE! YOU HEAR ME?! OR ELSE, I WILL FIND YOU AND… I DON’T KNOW WHAT I’LL DO! BUT I’LL DO IT!”

The ground around them began to shake as Innominat, severed from his control over the fortress, started to fall apart.

The Four Empyreans, after finally taking their sweet time, had ceased the quaking and appeared to finally set things right or wrong, she couldn’t be bothered to learn the difference.

However, the long and boring conversation about Innominat being severed from the world, the void that was left behind, and Laphicet’s choice to take his place, went over her head. She didn’t care anymore.

Velvet was gone.

*

Magilou wearily stepped to one of the pillars near where she and her companions had been returned from the vessel above and slid to the floor in puddle of apathy.

She didn’t pay attention to Laphicet’s words or the world wide cleansing of his Silver Flame.

She didn’t pay attention to anything.

She just looked to the floor.

“Magilou, what’s wrong?” she heard the kid say, now in his new Ivory Temple.

She looked up to him with a bitter glare.

“What do you think, kid?” she pushed herself to her feet with recognizable difficulty, “Velvet’s gone… and for what?!”

Eleanor, Rokurou, and Eizen turned to her in surprise.

“I’m… I’m sorry,” he tried to answer, but she cut him off.

“Well, sorry don’t pay the bills!” she snapped back, “it doesn’t bring back the dead, it doesn’t heal wounds, and it sure as hell won’t bring back the only other person who gave a damn about me!”

Eizen raised an eyebrow. “Wait a minute, weren’t you listening?”

She whirled on him. “Now that you mention it, no! I was trying to process the fact that Velvet is gone! I already knew about Innominat’s and the kid’s and the Therions’ connection and how it may or may not, I don't know, do something. Maybe nothing at all! You think I didn’t know that?! I’ve lost sleep over that and now, I’ve lost her!”

“But, but the world-” Phi started, only for Magilou to interrupt him again.

“The world can go to hell for all I care! All the world did was use me up and toss me aside when they couldn’t squeeze anything more out of me! Velvet was the first person that actually recognized me as a human being! That I wasn’t just a puppet or a resource to be used up. Haven’t I suffered enough? Hasn’t SHE suffered enough?! When does it fucking end?!”

“Magilou…” Eleanor whispered, holding her lance and fighting tears of her own at Velvet’s departure.

She didn’t care how blurred her eyes became as she continued to rant. “That little shit did nothing to warrant that kind of mercy! He did nothing to show remorse at the pain he put her through! He did nothing to change his behavior, yet, he gets to live, despite being the very cause of all this! Where is the justice for Velvet?! Where is the closure for her? For me?!”

Rokurou, knowing this was not going to end well when he opened his mouth, spoke regardless, “Remember, Magilou? Life is pain and anyone who says otherwise is selling something?”

Magilou’s frown hurt. “Save your sanctimonious bullshit for someone who cares!”

With no warning, she summoned a guardian with what little strength she had left, jumped on, and speed down the stairs faster than anyone else could call after her.

She didn’t want to deal with this anymore.

She didn’t want to feel anything right now.

She didn’t want to remember being a child when her parents sold her.

She didn’t want to remember being used as a prop for someone else’s profit.

She didn’t want to remember being a piece of clay for Melchior to mold into another twisted version of himself.

She didn’t want to remember being tossed aside like a broken toy when she didn’t live up to Melchior’s expectations.

She did, however, feel Bienfu materialize, but say nothing. He was smart enough to know when she was riled up like this, it was better to say nothing.

It was the smartest thing he ever did. Maybe that was one of the reasons why she tolerated his presence so.

*

Port Zekson had its fair share of seedy taverns. They also had a penchant for being the kind of place where if you want to be, and left, alone, you will be left alone.

Magilou, with what gald she had on her, was able to purchase something strong enough to make her as numb as possible. Yet, her chest still ached, even after two hours and several more drinks.

She took another sip of the concoction she had ordered. It tasted as vile as it sounded. ‘Brandy of Broken Dreams’. How disgustingly appropriate.

Yet, she felt no better than before as her gaze teetered into the shadows where the other patrons spoke in hushed whispers and the like.

Eventually, a stranger took a seat at her table. She looked up and underneath the newcomer’s hood, she saw the mop of cut, mixed red and orange hair.

“Hey, Sweet Peach,” she mumbled.

“I had to speak with a few of our… associates,” she spoke softly, “to find you.” Of course it was the Bloodwings. Who else could it be?

“Hmm,” she acknowledged before letting her head sag over the table, “before you ask; no, I’m not alright.”

Eleanor moved herself to Magilou’s side and took her hand gently. “I know.”

Magilou sniffed, wiped both her eyes and her nose on her sleeve. “Why, Eleanor? Why Velvet? Why this?”

Eleanor shifted and took Magilou into her embrace before she kissed Magilou’s cheek. “I wish I knew.”

“It’s been less than a day… and I miss her. I miss her so much,” she whispered into Eleanor’s shoulder.

“Nothing has really sunk in,” Eleanor noted with a weariness of her own.

“I think… if you weren’t here, Sweet Peach, I’d be in real trouble. Also, I don’t think the kid, Eizen, or Rokurou want to see me right now.”

“They don’t bear a grudge, if you’re worried about that. They understand why you reacted the way you did,” she answered back as she leaned against Magilou.

“Glad someone does,” Magilou snorted bitterly, “some dunce from the Abbey would have denounced me and told me I was being selfish. I’m tired of being talked down to.”

There was a long pause between them before Magilou continued, “It’s not fair. She was right here and now she’s gone…” she leaned deeper into the table, “and we’re still here.”

“If it makes you feel any better, she said she would return,” Eleanor muttered as she leaned back against the wall.

“How?” Magilou turned back to her, “I am always one for your optimism, Sweet Peach, but wherever she is, she is far beyond wherever we can hope to find her.”

Eleanor, aware that she had no real answer, tilted her gaze to the side. “I don’t know, however, there is one thing that gives me hope.”

“What’s that?” she inquired after wiping away a fresh set of tears.

Now Eleanor looked embarrassed, “it’s silly when you say it out loud, though, but,” she searched for the right words, “Magilou, do you trust Velvet?”

The question caught her off guard. If Velvet was alive, then she would find a way to return. She said she would. However, there was always a mountain of reality that could easily crush those words and aspirations.

Regardless, she nodded.

“Good,” Eleanor whispered as she wrapped her arm around Magilou’s shoulders, “me too.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, what's this? *reaches into your ear and pulls out...* Oh, an Epilogue! You think I'd end it here? Don't be silly! The ending made me so upset that I think I got an ulcer after crying for about a half hour. >.> I wouldn't wish that on anyone.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Forward is fore-warned; this is not the epilogue. I thought it was going to be, but it wasn't. >.>

It had been three days since their sham of a victory.

Eizen had returned to the Von Eltia, despite he would no longer be seen by his shipmates. Yet, he would always be there.

Plaguing them.

Cursing them.

Hexing them.

And all manner of unpleasantness, yet, they’d keep going like fools.

Rokurou had gone off wandering the land in search of stronger enemies, despite the fact that he was, for all intents and purposes, the greatest swordsman that ever lived. However, Magilou knew better than to try to stop him from being the very best that ever was. She also dreaded the occasion where he would tell her to ‘Believe it!’ when he had obtained his desired status.

Thankfully, he was smart enough to understand that it was a neverending journey and made it a point to come visit when possible.

She and Eleanor would certainly not object. They were rather fond of the Yaksha. However, when that would be, would be anyone’s guess. Thankfully, he kept himself busy by raiding raiding parties and murdering marauders.

With the fall of Artorious and Innominat, there was no celebration. No joyous revelry of barely escaping a fate worse than death.

If anything, it had only made things worse for certain peoples.

Eleanor being one of them.

Without Artorious, Innominat, and the Legates to guide the Abbey, there was a power vacuum that quickly encapsulated the remaining praetors. Yet, the only thing they could agree on was that they wanted Eleanor dead for her betrayal.

Henceforth, Eleanor, in another set of traveling leathers, a mask, and hood to keep her identity secret, sat despondent next to Magilou in the caravan to Haria. With the Abbey’s powerbase gone, trade, at least, began to flourish with more companies attempting to make headway through their newfound freedom. Which also made it easier for both of them to travel discreetly. Since her skin was the same shade as Kamoana's, she'd blend in more easily that Magilou would.  Granted, it would also create complications of its own, but Magilou insisted. After all, they never got much of a chance to enjoy the beach the last time. 

Eleanor took in the sea with a deep breath and sighed.

While the daemon attacks had decreased to a significant degree, the overall population also seemed to have not rebounded as much as either of them had hoped. With Maotelus’ Silver Flame, the corrosive and destructive influence of the malevolence could be curtained for a season. Yet, like in all unfortunate solutions that should have solved the problem, it came with caveats.

Not all who had been transformed into daemons had the temperament or the desire to return to normal, such as brigands, marauders, thieves, and politicians.

Thankfully, the Southgand Islands had far fewer problems to deal with than their northern cousins. So, both of them took this moment to take a breath.

And to Eleanor's surprise, it was when Magilou had pulled, from seemingly out of nowhere, a lute, and began to play on it as their caravan had reached the halfway point on their journey.

Eleanor smiled at Magilou as she started a simple bass line with a matching harmony.

“It’s very nice,” Eleanor whispered.

Magilou smiled. “Of course it is. If there’s one thing that audiences love, it’s good music. Granted, I had to go through a few others before I got a feel for this one.”

Eleanor was quiet for a moment before she asked. “Do you happen to know any of the Hymnal?”

Magilou huffed. “Of course I do. Being raised by the old food exposed me to that droning whether I liked it or not. Since he insisted that I learn how to appreciate the finer points of music when I wasn’t learning how to murder people for the ‘greater good’, I have an unfortunately large repertoire of songs of Abbey origin.”

Eleanor smiled a bit. “You happen to know any of the ‘Appeals to Abide’?”

Magilou rolled her eyes. “Sadly, yes. Everytime I brought it out, people wanted to hear one of that series. It’s practically a cliche at this point; go to a town, entertain the drunkards in the tavern, eventually, some sentimental fool asks for one of the Abides, I play it and my cup runneth over in gald!”

Eleanor rose an eyebrow. “That hardly sounds like a bad thing.”

Magilou turned to her with a weary look. “It is when it’s ALL you play. Honestly! What I wouldn’t give to play at least a Credo! Even a Requiem would be preferable!”

“If that’s the case, is there a song you’d like to sing?” she asked with her hands folded.

Magilou’s irritation faded quickly. Eleanor was such a wonderful woman that knew how to make her feel better.

“Well, since you asked, I would love to preview something I have been working on for the past few months. It’s certainly to be a crowd pleaser,” she noted with an extended index finger.

“Wait, months? How come I’ve never see you practice?”

“I make the time. It’s just that everyone else is away and when I have time to myself. I need my ‘me’ time, after all,” Magilou noted with a particular air.

“Fair enough.”

Magilou started her song, much like the one before; a simple base line with a matching harmony that jumped up and down at a relaxed pace.

_Just how nice it would be/ for you to run away with me_

_Leave our cares and woes behind/ escapades and sights to find_

_How wonderfully imperfect/ all our hopes and dreams_

_Not to fade and break/ tearing at the seams._

Magilou continued to play the same chord progression over and over, somber in her gaze and unable to say anything more.

“Unfortunately, that’s all I’ve been able to produce thus far,” she noted with a shrug of her own.

“It sounds nice,” Eleanor said with a warm smile.

“It will be,” she insisted, “I am writing it, after all!”

The announcement caused Eleanor to smile and laugh a bit.

Sadly, it evaporated as quickly as it came when the realization hit.

It was something Magilou wanted to share with Velvet and her departure still weighed heavily on both of them.

“I miss her,” Magilou said quietly as the music from her lute slowly went silent.

“Me too,” Eleanor whispered before she over heard the caravan leader announce their approach to Haria. “We’re almost there. You ready?”

“Sweet Peach,” Magilou announced before conjuring her lute away into thin air, “I was born ready.”

“We’re just here to lay low for a while, remember? As strange as it sounds, we’re here to recover,” Eleanor said as she looked out from the wagon to see the large, reconstructed fence crawl into view.

“I shall never argue with that,” Magilou answered haughtily, “after all, a witch needs her beauty sleep. It’s not all fun and games fending off assassins that are after the head of her girlfriend, after all.”

Eleanor’s eyes leveled. “You really know how to wax romantic, don’t you?”

“I’ve written several serials based on those, you know!”

Eleanor then blinked, an unfortunate feeling welling up in her gut. “The penname author of those romance novels wouldn’t happen to be Melody Medley, would it?”

Magilou clapped her hands excitedly. “Of course! How’d you guess?”

Eleanor’s face became as red as a tomato when Magilou smirked and thought of certain individuals reading certain novels, with certain pages folded, with certain passages highlighted with an enchanted ink. Not that she would ever admit to it!

“Oh Sweet Peach, there’s nothing to be ashamed about…” still the mischievous glint in her eyes appeared, “ok, spill! Which novel was it?”

Eleanor could not look her in the eyes as she tilted and felt ready to break down from embarrassment alone. “Well, it was,” she would have answered had a large and fluffy bird landed on her lap.

“Oh! A sylphjay!” Eleanor declared, her admission completely forgotten, much to Magilou’s chagrin. “With a message from…” Eleanor’s eyes went wide when she opened the missive, “Maotalus?!”

  
Magilou joined her in her surprise. “Wait, the kid sent this? Didn’t your bond allow you to communicate a lot more easier or something?”

“Well, it did, but when he took up the mantle of the Fifth Empyrean, it superseded our oath and it became null and void. While I do miss him, it’s understandable why it happened,” she noted as she got her pack off the floor of the wagon.

Now it was Magilou’s turn for her expression to turn sour. “What does he want?” They had not parted on the best of terms when Velvet had left and while she was sure he understood why, she doubted she’d want to speak with him for a while, if ever.

“Well…” Eleanor looked over the message, “he’s asking us to come back. He’s got something very important to let us know,” she gasped and looked up, “it’s about Velvet!”

“What?! Why didn’t you say so! Let’s go!” Magilou shouted as she got to her own feet and realized, they had just reached the village and needed to go all the way back to Yseult.

She slapped her face with both hands as she swore under her breath.

“Son of a bitch witch!”

*

One ride back, another boat, and yet another long sojourn later…

  
“I swear,” Magilou groaned as her legs burned from the incredible flight up to the Throne of the Empyreans, “if I ever have to climb this monstrosity of a staircase again, it’ll be too soon! I don’t care how toned my legs would be! This is torture, I tell you! Torture!”

The sun’s light was beginning to fade as they finally reached to apex of the temple that had once been the powerbase of their enemies.

The large ethereal dragon, Maotelus noted their arrival and in a brief flash of light, transformed into the innocuous malak they had spent almost half a year traveling with.

“You made it!” Maotelus declared happily as he ran up to them both.

“Yes, it took a while, but we came as soon as we could,” Eleanor answered as Magilou coughed, gasped, posed, and flailed wildly about before dramatically falling to the ground in exhaustion.

“You… you must really hate us!” Magilou whined, “we were just about to start a much needed recovery session on the beaches of a rebuilt Haria! Where the sun always shines and the air smells like warm rooted beer! And the towels are oh, so fluffy! Where the Shine Maidens and the Dancers play their ukulele all day long and anyone on the street would gladly shave your back for a five-gald!”

“Hi, Magilou,” Maotelus greeted with a humored smile.

She immediately dropped the act. “Hey, kid,” she said as she slowly got to her feet before she turned serious again. “So, what’s this about Velvet? And no dramatic build up. Just get to the point.”

He nodded. “Right. The point is; Velvet is gone.”

Both Eleanor and Magilou gasped in shock.

“What?!” Eleanor blanched.

“What do you mean gone? Where?! How?!” Magilou pressed. 

He shrugged his shoulders helplessly. “I wish I knew. One moment, Velvet and Innominat were suspended in stasis, the next; nothing.”

Eleanor looked up to the still Vessel above. “Did they leave the area somehow?”

“Well,” he answered pensively, “I do know that when it vanished, it didn’t just disappear. It translocated. Like with a teleportation arte.”

Magilou joined Eleanor’s gaze for a moment before turning back to him. “Can you sense any sort of mana surges? It’s a simpler matter to cast the arte and translocate, however, the landing requires a lot more mana in order to land safely or else you’d be splattered all over the ground by landing, especially over large distances.”

Maotelus hummed and sent out his senses to find anything out of the ordinary. Much like when he sought the Earthpulses, he felt his consciousness expand over the leylines of the world. His eyes shot open and he declared, “Mount Killeraus!” He paused again. “But I don’t sense any sort of transposition. However, I am finding a rift. Like…” his eyes grew wide when he realized the answer, “The Heavenly Steppes!”

“Wait, are you saying Velvet and Innominat went there?” Eleanor pressed.

“Maybe? I don’t know for sure, but that’s where the landing pulse is coming from,” he answered with folded arms.

“So,” Magilou turned to the north, where the volcano still stood, “our intrepid leader somehow decided to escape and go there? But what for? It’s a mystery,” she said as a smile began to grow on her lips.

“I wanted to let you two know first,” Maotelus said quickly, “I know losing Velvet hurt you. She was really important to you. She was important to me, but for different reasons. I know she would have wanted to stay with you both had she the chance and it hurt when she left.”

Magilou’s face then softened and as her grin became warmer and more genuine.

She then knelt in front of him, wrapped her arms around his smaller shoulders, and whispered, “you’re a good boy, Phi. You’ve always been. Thank you.”

Maotelus smiled and hugged her back. “Thank you. I hope you find her again.”

She sat back a step and nodded. “We will. She promised she’d come back. And now, it’s time to collect.”

“Should we summon Rokurou and Eizen?” Eleanor offered.

He nodded. “I can send a sylphjay to find them both and tell them to meet you there.”

Eleanor tilted her head. “Can’t you come with us?”

His smile faded and he shook his head. “Sadly, I can’t leave this vessel. Not yet at any rate.”

“He took the land as his vessel, remember? Poor kid is kinda stuck here for the time being,” Magilou answered with a sadder countenance than she would have admitted. “So, if… no, when we find Velvet, we’ll drag her sorry hinder back here and make sure you two get a chance to talk, ok?”

Maotelus’ bright smile appeared again and he nodded. “Thank you.”

Phi was a good boy.


	13. Chapter 13

If there was one thing Magilou missed it was being able to teleport wherever she wanted to, but alas, she had someone with her that could not and she had yet to find the capacity to teleport more than one person at a time. So, more arrangements had to be made so they could make the journey to Hellawes. 

In the waning hours of the day in Port Zeckson, both Magilou and Eleanor, still in disguise, waited patiently for the passenger boat to allow their clients in. They had been fortunate and had gotten the last room. 

“Names?” The Midgand Solider with the parchment in his hands said, not entirely paying attention. 

“Mrs. And Mrs. Melody Medley,” Magilou, in a less conspicuous dress said haughtily, pretending to be an aristocrat, as she handed him a note with a fabricated seal on it. 

The guard looked up from his parchment. “Haven’t I heard that name before? Also, who’s your companion?”

“Why? Did I not make myself clear!” Magilou answered back, clearly offended, “this is my one and only! The lovely Luscina Lenore! Now, the Mrs. Melody Medley!”

Eleanor, with her hair in a fancy set of braids, a rather large and obnoxious bow, an equally gaudy dress to compliment Magilou's, and a hat that covered the topmost part of her face, curtsied. 

Both of them could tell the guard wasn’t entirely believing their story, however, to their good fortune, or through careful timing, the line of the rest of the passengers was long enough that if he was to stop them to have them examined, it would slow down the departure and that would only make things bad for him. 

“Fine,” he muttered, “all appears to be in order. However, don’t let any of us catch you doing anything suspicious! We’ve been looking for some heretic for the Abbey and they’re angry as can be. And we got enough problems as it is.”

Both of them nodded and stepped aboard, with Eleanor’s arm wrapped around one of Magilou’s. 

“I can’t believe that worked,” Eleanor whispered when she felt they were far enough out of earshot. 

“Of course it worked,” she whispered back, “weak minded fools like this are easily deceived by my disguises! And it was a good thing, I was ready to use an Influence Arte to let us on board.”

“Do those even work?” she asked before an exorcist approached them. 

“Pardon, may I see your identification?” he asked as if it were routine. He was large, however, he appeared to be one of the men in charge of a search. 

“Come now,” Magilou said before she brought her hand up and with a few simple finger gestures, a small flash of light left the man off balance, “our identification’s already been verified.”

The man looked down for a second before answering, “Your identification’s been verified.”

“Indeed it has,” Magilou continued with a few more subtle gestures, “and we may go about our business, undisturbed. After all, you’re looking for a traitor, not travelers.”

“Well, you may go about your business undisturbed. Just know we’re looking for an unscrupulous individual, not travelers.”

“Thank you, kind sir,” Magilou flashed an insincere smile, “may we go?”

The man nodded again. “You may go.” With that, he left them to attempt the same with another passenger. 

When Eleanor and Magilou made to their room, Eleanor gasped as she fell to her knees, grasped her chest, and attempted to settle the pounding of her heart. “I can’t believe we made it!”

“Sweet Peach,” Magilou said as she removed the fancy shawl that was part of her costume, “you shouldn’t doubt me on this. I’ve been moving among the Abbey forces and Midgand military unseen for years. This is nothing.”

“So, were you… mind controlling him, like Melchior did with Aifreid?” she asked after a moment, and with visible apprehension. 

“Yes and no,” Magilou answered as she got back into her normal attire, “what Melchior did was more or less a complete hypnotic subjugation. The damage is often deep and irreversible. What I did was a simple mental misdirection. When it leaves his immediate memory, any enchantment made on his mind will fade with it,” she shrugged, “and even if he did remember, we’d be far and away long before he would make the connection to us both.”

Eleanor considered her words for a moment before feeling satisfied with the answer. “Normally, I would have noted that as long as it didn’t harm, then I would have no objections… though, considering how badly I’m wanted dead, I’m not so sure I have the luxury to keep my conscience clean anymore.”

Magilou smiled before she helped Eleanor to her feet, hugged her dearly, then kissed her on the cheek. “Sweet Peach, it’s fine. As long as I’m around, you have no reason to worry about questionable actions for questionable reasons. I am trained as the Shepherd’s Shadow, you know. That means I can be yours if you ever decide to throw a coup and seize power!”

The announcement made Eleanor chuckle as she removed her hat and then took a seat by their window. 

“You think we’ll find her there?”

Magilou’s bravado faded immediately and she took a seat beside her. 

“I hope so,” she rest her head on her arms on the table, “I’ve been through too many disappointments in my life. Things are finally starting to turn around and I am not going to let things go bad again.”

Eleanor reached over and took one of her hands. “I’m glad to hear that. I was worried after… after what happened.”

“Well, I had someone there to help me,” she answered as she squeezed Eleanor’s hand, “Besides, I’m not letting the Abbey or Midgand have you. I’m a jealous and selfish woman and I don’t like sharing! Nyeah!”

Eleanor chuckled as she looked from the junction of their hands to Magilou and back again. 

“Magilou… thank you, for everything,” she whispered as she stood up, walked to Magilou, leaned down and kissed her. 

After their kiss broke, Magilou smiled mischievously, “anytime, my Sweet Peach. But I think I happened to know a better way to show your appreciation.”

Eleanor laughed lightly before pulling Magilou to her feet, then guided her to the bed with several more kisses. “Honestly, Magilou, you really are a degenerate.”

“Indeed I am, but will you still love me in the morning?” Magilou asked with a pout and faux look of worry as she lay back on their bed.

“That’s one of the reasons why I do,” Eleanor answered as she crawled over Magilou and kissed her again. 

*

The snow had let up a bit since Velvet had summoned the Empyreans. It was just their foul luck to be caught in another blizzard. 

Eizen must have made it there before them. 

Surely enough, there, at the gaping entrance to Mount Killeraus, Rokurou and Eizen stood waiting for them. 

“Gentlemen!” Magilou announced as they approached. 

Rokurou smiled largely. “Hey! Good to see you both alive and well.”

Eizen nodded solemnly. 

“Of course we are! You think we would allow ourselves to be taken down after facing an Empyrean?! Ha, I say! Ha, again! Twice, ha ha!” Magilou flailed dramatically. 

Eizen folded his arms. “Considering the length the Abbey’s Remnants and the Midgard Military are going through to get at Eleanor, I’m surprised you were able to make it here as fast as you did.”

Magilou flipped the hair in front of her face with a flourish. “They can try to catch the Magnificent Magilou and her Elated Elegant Eleanor, but they will fail every time!”

The woman in question smiled at her titled and gave Magilou’s hand a subtle, and snug, squeeze of her hand. 

Rokurou laughed heartily before letting the moment pass so they could concentrate on the matter at hand. 

“So, we got the message. Vevlet’s here?” he asked before turning to see the summit. 

“That’s what we believe so far,” Eleanor answered, “however, we know she is somewhere in the Heavenly Steppes, but where exactly was beyond Maotelus’ sight.”

“Hmm,” Eizen thought aloud, “considering that rappig Malak, Zui Fuu, resides there, there’s a good chance she might have seen something.”

“Emphasis on ‘might’,” Magilou stated with a frown. 

“Well,” Rokurou said with a grin and turn to the entrance, “we’re not going to find out just standing here. Let’s go!”

All agreed and then they went in, expecting a fight, like the last time they entered the Heavenly Steppes. 

*

It was odd to be back. It was a lovingly designed, if a bit garish for Magilou’s taste, pathway that could lead up to places that malak sought to return to for reasons only they knew, despite the fact that it was pretty much a dead end for any and all that entered. 

The Heavenly Gate was closed to all. Why Zui Fuu still hung out there was anyone’s guess. However, if Velvet was here, somehow, Magilou was determined to find out the how, the why, and then get her back. 

She was not going to lose Velvet again.

She’d blow herself up to destroy Innominat if it came to that. 

Though, if she had a choice, she’d rather not. She was rather fond of the breathing habit. 

She took a deep breath as all four of them entered the first rainbow colored door, expecting powerful daemons that had once been malak, to attack them. 

There were none. 

In fact, Magilou found herself more unsettled the further in they made their way. 

Floor after floor was completely bereft of activity. There was nothing there. 

No daemons, no katz, no nothing. 

The uneasy feeling in Magilou’s gut was returning. Every time there was quiet in a place like this, there was a storm, ready to break on them. 

Especially Magilou and she was not in the mood for any more unpleasant surprises. 

Every time her foot hit the ground, along with that of her companions, the echo was practically deafening. 

“You know,” Rokurou said as they ascended another set of steps to the next floor, “I was expecting this place to be a bit more… I dunno, lively. With living things to fight.”

“I’m inclined to agree,” Eleanor said with her spear held tightly in her hands, “as much as I hated fighting through the scores of daemons, this is far more unsettling.”

“How much you want to wager that Velvet may have had something to do with it,” Eizen said before Magilou shushed him with her index fingers on his lips. 

“No! Bad pirate! Don’t you dare jinx this for me!” she snapped quickly. “Besides, even if she devoured everything in sight, there would always be more daemons to take their place. You said so yourself; daemons would always find their way here to return, even though they can’t.”

Eizen huffed and continued on. 

Eventually, after still not finding anything, they came to the last floor and to the Heavenly Gate. 

Opened. 

“Oh, it’s you!” a familiar voice announced before they were approached by the rappig malak they had met the last time. 

“Hello,” Eleanor curtsied on habit. 

“I can wager a guess as to why you are all here,” the flying pig uttered mystically, with no moving mouth to be seen. 

“Yeah. You seen our lady friend? Tall, dark brown skin, waterfall of black hair, disposition that easily gives way to intense sex and violence? Preferably the former?” Magilou asked with a smirk.

“Magilou, behave,” Eleanor said with leveled eyes and a weary grin. 

“In a pig’s eye,” she answered back before she realized her error, “er, no offense intended.”

“None taken,” Zui Fuu answered in an unconvinced tone of voice, “now then, yes, I have. It was not long ago that your friend appeared and she broke open the gate to the Heavenly Realm!”

The four of them were shocked to silence until Rokurou broke it. “How?”

“She punched it open.”

Another round of shocked silence, but wasn’t entirely surprising. While certainly tactful, there were times when subtlety was lost on the Lord of Calamity. Not that Magilou minded. 

“I haven’t the faintest idea why your friend would invade the realm of the Seraphim, but I am, honestly, at a loss as what I should do as well.”

“You mean like, whether you should go and see the Heavenly Realm or not?” Eizen asked, almost expecting the answer. 

“Correct. Many Malak like myself have longed to return to the Heavenly Realm, but now that it is opened… we are not so sure anymore.”

Magilou slapped her forehead. “Are you serious?! When we were here last you were,” she hunched over and swayed this way and that, “bemoaning your horrible, terrible, awful, very bad lot about being expelled from the Heavenly Realm! And now, only now, with the door opened and Velvet there, you are now getting cold feet?! What the hell!”

Zui Fuu seemed hesitant to answer, but replied nonetheless. “The Seraphim would not take kindly to us trying to return.”

“You know what? Forget it. I don’t know or why Velvet went in there and if she didn’t say, then I guess we’re just going to have to find out!” Magilou declared, throwing caution to the wind. 

A loud and thunderous crash knocked them all off their feet and even Zui Fuu had to steady herself when all of them looked into the Gate. 

Within, there appeared to be a verdant glade, filled with morning mists, however, the ground was beginning to shake and the pathway leading further into it was starting to grow dark. 

“No! The Heavenly Realm is collapsing!” Zui Fuu cried as everyone else got to their feet. 

Before any of them could ask what she was referring to, a figure began to emerge from the distance, making a mad dash towards the gate. 

“Velvet!” Magilou shouted joyfully a second before she saw the world around Velvet on the other side of the gate beginning to fall apart at the seams and drown into an all consuming vortex behind her. 

Closer and closer the abyss’s maw seemed to grow larger and Velvet was not running fast enough. In addition, she still had a fair distance to go before she would reach the game. 

“Damn it!” Magilou roared before she summoned her guardian geoboard and sped through the gate. 

All around her, Magilou saw what could only be described as a forest dreamscape. However, she didn’t have time to take in the scenery as she made a wide turn into Velvet’s path. 

Magilou extended her hand, which Velvet took and leaped into Magilou’s arms and onto the board.

“Hold on!” she shouted as she willed the geoboard to go as fast as it could, but a quick glance behind showed that even her speed wasn’t sufficient to get them to gate in time.

The distance from the gate was only a stone’s throw away before the ground underneath them both dissolved. Before Magilou could let loose another string of curses, Velvet wrapped her arm around her waist and leaped off the geoboard. 

Even with the additional momentum, it wasn’t enough. Until Velvet unfurled the Therion’s Claw and latched herself onto the frame of the Heavenly Gate. Immediately, Rokurou, Eizen, and Eleanor reached over and pulled the two of them past the threshold. Rokurou and Eleanor yanked Velvet back while Eizen summoned a grip of chains of light and pulled Magilou in at the same time. 

After all five of them hit the ground, they turned to see the gate begin to shake, then distort, and finally crumble in on itself. Smaller and smaller it became until it completely vanished. 

Velvet would have continued staring had Magilou not grabbed her head, turn it to her and kissed her, full on the lips. Then she kissed her again. And again. 

“Hey!” Velvet protested, while certainly she didn’t mind in other circumstances, there was a time and a place for a saliva exchange. 

“Sorry,” Magilou sniffed with a relieved smile on her face, “I’m just glad you’re back.”

The irritation in Velvet’s face faded and a smile of her own appeared as she looked to both Magilou and Eleanor. “I missed you.”

Magilou didn’t care what anyone though as she sniffed again and wiped the tears from her eyes. “Me too. And I’m not even trying to audition for anything.”

Velvet and Eleanor started to chuckle until they were interrupted by a long sigh above them. 

“So, it is gone,” Zui Fuu muttered sadly. “The Heavenly Realm is no more.”

“Trust me,” Velvet wheezed for breath and shook her head, “you didn’t want to go back. Not after what happened to it.”

They were about to ask when Velvet pushed herself to her feet. “But not here. I’ve had my fill of Celestial creatures, monstrosities, and gods for a lifetime!”

Zui Fuu seemed to shrug, if a rappig could, before she started to follow them out of the Steppes. “Very well.”

Magilou would eventually learn about the whos, whats, whens, wheres, whys, and hows in due time. 

For now, it was time to rest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Epilogue 1 done.
> 
> Next and final Epilogue will finally get to the nookie. I mean, that's why we do this, isn't it?
> 
> Also, yes, there are some unanswered questions, but they will be answered in the next story, which will be from Velvet's perspective.


	14. Chapter 14

Magilou Mayvin is one that likes to go into little details on almost everything. Especially when it comes to the little details of Velvet Crowe and Eleanor Hume. 

For example; as Eleanor kisses her way up the back of Magilou’s neck, she notes how calloused Eleanor’s palms are as she leans back. Them, and her musculature, seem to go against everything people assume of her. They see a prim, proper, and trimmed young lady. Underneath the uniform, she personified the philosophies of the Abbey when it wasn’t trying to destroy the world. Years of movement and training left little room for anything other than a delicate balance of strength and agility. One always had to work with the other or else she would lose. And by the Empyreans, it was lovely to see! Lean, toned muscles on her back, arms, and stomach. A sturdy core. And, yes, the toned legs that supported a butt that Magilou would happily spend days getting to know! 

And while her scar had covered a good portion of her torso, Magilou didn’t mind it in the least, as she would often kiss her way down it, and it made Eleanor giggle when she did. It took a while for Eleanor to get used to being exposed so, however, she and Velvet made sure she was never uncomfortable. The former Exorcist was ever grateful. 

In front of her, as Velvet claims her mouth, Magilou greedily lets her hands rub over Velvet’s abdomen again. If Eleanor is balance, Velvet is chaos. In the most wonderful way. Everything Velvet is runs contrary to her namesake. 

Velvet implies a soft and delicate fabric. Velvet is anything but. While her hands are not as calloused and worn as Eleanor’s are, they certainly are capable of far harder motions. Even Velvet’s left arm, no longer the bandaged seal holding a curse, but now a smooth, almost immaculate limb covered in a material that seems akin to pure, distilled magic, with soft lights glowing from within, does not relent in the least as she grabs Magilou’s hips possessively. 

She feels the energy from Velvet's hand, indifferent to how she got it, because it was, frankly, boring to hear about the Seraphim. They were jerks anyway, but she digressed.

Velvet is power. An unstoppable force with no immovable object. And it’s reflected in her arms, back, stomach, and legs with muscles that still bulge with angry veins here and there. Velvet cannot and will not slow down and Magilou has no intention of letting go. 

Yes, the sex is exciting. Whether it is with Velvet or Eleanor, or both. However, it’s most than just that. Well, it’s significantly that, but that’s beside the point. 

Both of these women love Magilou Mayven. A fact that, a year ago, Magilou would have not only heatedly deny, but be dogged in her assurance that it was a fabrication. She was, admittedly, more interested in a business transaction of mutual benefit and nothing more. 

However, the fact that these two broken women, both with scars, visible and not, had not only gone out of their way to show how they cared, but supported her in ways she once thought impossible. In battle, they fought alongside her. They protected her, she protected them. They never fell because of that. 

When fears surfaced, Eleanor would drive the away the darkness with her light and Velvet would hunt in the shadows anything that threatened them. 

She disengaged from Velvet’s kiss for a moment to catch her breath before throwing her arms around Velvet’s shoulders to pull her in close again. 

This was all she wanted. 

While, yes, gald certainly had its appeal, and she was certainly not wanting for it, it was cold, hard, and, while tangible, it lacked something that the touch of one of her two lovers had in abundance. 

She let go again to gasp as Eleanor’s calloused hands wrapped around her waist, one of her hands taking Velvet’s. 

Damn both of them for knowing her sensitive spots!

At the same time, Eleanor had reached around, to join with Velvet’s other hand, to stroke Magilou’s entrance, which cause her to throw her head back and inhale as much air as she could. 

“You two are awful!” Magilou garbled as her head swam in fire. 

“We could always stop,” Velvet asked with a smirk.

“Did I say anything about stopping!?” Magilou shot back before moving her legs to wrap them around Velvet’s waist. 

“You could always be implying it,” Eleanor offered as her hand, in conjunction with Velvet’s, moved faster. 

“Imply… Not imply…!” Magilou tried to fire back another snappy retort, however, she was getting dizzy from the sheer sensation of being touched so vigorously. 

“You know, Ms. Hume,” Velvet began, while still stroking, with a large and mischievous smirk of her own, “Does Ms. Mayvin appear to want this to end prematurely?”

“Hmm,” Magilou hears behind her, she’s not worried, Eleanor’s too straight-man to get into character, “I would agree with your assessment,” then again. 

“Ahh! Stop trying to confuse me!” she sputters are she feels her edge coming closer and closer. 

Then, they stop. 

Velvet then holds her close, with Eleanor mimicking her so she is literally a Magilou sandwich, and unable to finish the job herself. 

“Ahh! No! No fair! Two on one is the coward's way!”

Eleanor leaned into Magilou’s ear and whispered, “you can still use the safeword, remember?”

Magilou whispered back cheekily, “I know, I’m just being a nuisance.”

Velvet’s eyes leveled before she kissed Magilou on the nose. “So, what else is new?”

Before Magilou could answer, both of them doubled their attention on her entrance and she began to pant loudly as the sweat on her forehead got more pronounced. 

She babbled something incomprehensible as she finally shivered happily. When it had passed, she practically melted off of Velvet and into Eleanor’s arms.

*

In the the yellow sleeping shirts they all wore, Magilou, with a smirk, decided to write about their escapades since Velvet’s return. Of course, what would really get the gald flowing was the sex scenes! Naturally, she decides to spruce them up a little. 

“Ahem,” she began to recite from a manuscript as Eleanor, leaning up against a reclined Velvet, wasn’t sure what to say. Eleanor was trying to figure out how exactly she agreed to this and Velvet reminded her of the unmitigated disaster that would happen that would be amusing to watch. 

“’Oh, Miss Magilou!’ a sensual sensation by Magilou Mayven,” she began, “Magilou enters the mountain spanning mansion, adorned in precious silks and the finest jewelry and proclaims, ‘My loves! I have returned! And I am most magical and Mayven!’. Then, both of you swoon at my presence and declare, ‘Oh! Miss Magilou! Let us do it!’, you say as you both embrace me. To which, the Mayven proclaims, ‘Yes! And I shall wear my jingly jangly shoes!’ And so, within Ten Thousand Leagues of the event, Empyreans are summoned! Rainbows fly everywhere! And Oscar Dragonia still has no butt! And it was great. The End!”

Velvet said nothing as she tried to process what she just heard. 

Eleanor sighed. “It needs work.”

Magilou huffed. “Everyone’s a critic!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun, huh?
> 
> Velvet's story's next. Or, maybe going back to 'Stranger than Fiction' and expanding it. Got some more ideas to work with. Oi.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments are always appreciated. Writing is hard work and hearing why people enjoy your work is very validating and it is practically the lifeblood of our creativity. So, please, if you can, take a moment to leave a comment about what and why you liked it. It's ok, I don't bite. Honest. >.>


End file.
